II 


,' 

I 


--")   V  >  T 
;  \    /     i   L 


LIFE 


OP 


LORD    JEFFREY, 


Selertion  from  Ijts  Comsponlienre. 


BY 

LORD    COCKBURN, 

ONI  OF  THE  JUDGES  OF  THE  COURT  OF  SESSION  IN  SCOTLAND. 


TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE. 
VOL.  1. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT  &   CO. 

1857. 


ait 


PREFACE. 


MY  only  apology  for  the  presumption  of  en- 
gaging in  this  work,  is,  that  it  was  undertaken 
at  the  request  of  the  family,  and  of  several  of 
the  friends,  of  Lord  Jeffrey.  Besides  other  ob- 
jections, there  is  an  age,  after  which  it  is  seldom 
safe  for  one  who  has  never  tried  to  write  a  book, 
to  begin  the  attempt. 

There  are  both  advantages  and  disadvantages 
in  the  nearness  of  a  man's  biography  to  his 
actual  life.  One  of  the  disadvantages  consists 
in  the  difficulty  of  speaking  plainly  of  persons 
still  living,  or  recently  dead.  "His  greatest  fault 
(says  Lord  Jeffrey  of  Hardy's  Life  of  Charlemont) 
is,  that  he  does  not  abuse  anybody,  even  where 
the  dignity  of  history  and  of  virtue  calls  loudly 


4  PREFACE. 

for  such  an  infliction  ;"  and,  no  doubt,  this  is 
a  serious  objection.  But  if  the  biographer  of 
Charlemont,  though  dealing  with  Irish  transac- 
tions, felt  the  indelicacy  of  the  censorian  duty 
in  a  work  published  eleven  years  after  the  death 
of  his  subject,  how  would  he  have  recoiled  from 
it,  if  engaged,  with  any  other  affairs,  within  less 
than  two?  But,  indeed,  there  were  few  persons 
whom  Jeffrey  himself  abused;  and  though  there 
were  some  public  matters  connected  with  his  life 
on  which  it  would  not  be  wrong  to  speak,  even 
now,  in  terms  of  severe  condemnation,  it  would 
be  unworthy  of  his  magnanimous  spirit,  if,  in 
the  very  act  of  describing  him,  his  friends  were 
to  remember  provocations  which  he  had  for- 
gotten. 

My  thanks  are  due,  and  are  hereby  given, 
to  all  those  who  have  assisted  me  by  contribu- 
tions of  letters. 

These    letters    will    probably   be    deemed    the 
only  valuable  part  of  this  work.     It  must,  there 
fore,   be   explained,   that  he  was   so   constant   a 
correspondent,  that   those  now  published  are  but 
a  sui.ill  portion  of  what  he  was  always  writing; 


PREFACE.  5 

and  that  his  letters  were  generally  so  long,  and 
so  full  of  those  personal  and  domestic  details, 
which,  however  delightful  to  receive,  would  be 
of  no  interest,  ^  and  not  even  intelligible,  to 
strangers,  that  they  very  seldom  admit  of  being 
communicated  entire.  Nothing  is  omitted  from 
this  publication  for  any  other  reason.  What 
have  been  selected  are  not  given  on  account 
of  any  particular  opinions  or  occurrences  which 
they  may  record,  but  solely  from  their  tendency 
to  disclose  the  personal  nature  of  the  man. 
And  I  am  bound  to  state,  that,  out  of  many 
hundreds  of  his  letters  that  I  have  seen,  there 
are  scarcely  three  lines  that  might  not  be  read 
with  propriety  to  any  sensitive  lady,  or  to  any 
fastidious  clergyman. 


1* 


LIFE  OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

______ 

FRANCIS  JEFFREY,  the  greatest  of  British  critics,  was 
born  in  Edinburgh  on  the  23d  of  October,  1773.  There 
are  very  few  persons  the  precise  spot  of  whose  nativity  it 
is  worth  while  taking  much  pains  to  fix.  But  as  almost 
all  the  accounts  of  Jeffrey  do  specify  a  place,  and  a  wrong 
one,  it  may  be  as  well  to  mention  that  he  certainly  was 
not  born  in  either  of  the  three  houses,  in  Fisher's  Land, 
or  Patterson's  Court,  or  Buchanan's  Court,  all  in  Lawn- 
market  Street,  where  the  family  afterward  lived ;  but  in 
one  of  the  flats  or  floors  of  what  is  now  marked  No.  7,  on 
the  west  side  of  Charles  Street,  George  Square.  Besides 
other  unquestionable  evidence,  he  himself  pointed  this  out 
as  his  birth-place  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Adam  Black,  book- 
seller. 

His  father  was  George  Jeffrey,  who  was  bred  to  the  law, 
and  became  one  of  the  depute-clerks  in  the  Supreme  Court, 
(called  the  Court  of  Session ;)  not  a  high,  but  a  very  re- 
spectable, situation.  His  mother  was  Henrietta  Louden,  a 
daughter  of  Mr.  John  Louden,  who  had  been  educated  for 
the  church,  but  abandoned  it  for  farming,  which  he  prac- 
tised near  Lanark.  Their  children  were  Margaret,  who 
died  in  childhood;  Mary,  afterward  married  to  George 
Napier,  Esq.,  a  writer  to  the  signet,  Edinburgh ;  Francis ; 
John,  a  merchant ;  and  Marion,  afterward  the  wife  of  Dr. 
Thomas  Brown,  physician  in  Glasgow,  now  of  Langfine,  iu 


8  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  county  of  Ayr.  Francis  survived  the  whole  family.* 
The  father,  who  died  in  1812,  aged  seventy,  was  a  sensible 
and  very  respectable  man ;  but  of  rather  a  gloomy  dispo- 
sition. Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  all  the  maternal  virtues,  and  was 
greatly  beloved  by  her  family ;  the  more  so  from  the  con- 
trast between  her  and  her  husband.  She  died  suddenly  in 
September,  1786.  Francis,  then  thirteen,  happened  to  be 
passing  a  few  days  at  Stevenson,  in  East  Lothian,  about 
seventeen  miles  from  Edinburgh.  Intelligence  of  his  mo- 
ther's danger  reached  the  family  he  was  living  with ;  but 
as  it  was  too  late  to  get  the  boy  into  Edinburgh  that  night, 
they  meant  to  conceal  it  from  him  till  next  day.  But  he 
had  detected,  or  suspected  it,  and  set  off  next  morning 
before  the  house  was  astir,  and  walked  home  alone.  The 
loss  of  their  mother  drew  the  children  closer  to  each  other, 
and  the  warmest  affection  subsisted  between  them  through- 
out their  whole  lives. 

Francis  learned  his  mere  letters  at  home;  and  John 
Cockburn,  who  had  a  school  in  the  abyss  of  Bailie  Fyfe's 
Close,  taught  him  to  put  them  together.  He  was  the 
tiniest  possible  child,  but  dark  and  vigorous,  and  gained 
some  reputation  there  while  still  in  petticoats.  One  Sealy 
had  the  honour  of  giving  him  his  whole  dancing  education, 
which  was  over  before  his  ninth  year  began.  It  is  to  be 
hoped,  for  Mr.  Sealy's  sake,  that  this  pupil  was  not  the 


*  A  story  that  is  told  of  a  fire  having  broken  out,  when  he  was  about 
a  year  old,  in  his  father's  house,  and  of  his  being  nearly  sacrificed  by 
having  been  forgotten  in  his  garret  crib,  till  rescued  by  a  poor  slater, 
whom  he  lived  to  save  in  return  long  afterward  by  gratuitous  profes- 
sional services,  is,  unfortunately,  groundless.  It  has  probably  arisen 
from  some  confusion  with  a  fire  which  consumed  his  father's  house  in 
1792,  when  he  was  at  Oxford,  and  when  it  was  with  difficulty  that  his 
grandmother  was  rescued  by  her  grand-daughter,  Mary  Crokett,  after- 
ward Mrs.  Murray. 


HIGH   SCHOOL   OF   EDINBURGH.  9 

best  specimen  of  his  skill ;  for  certainly  neither  dancing, 
nor  any  muscular  accomplishment,  except  walking,  at  which 
he  was  always  excellent,  were  within  his  triumphs. 

The  more  serious  part  of  his  education  commenced  in  Oc- 
tober, 1781 ;  when,  at  the  age  of  eight,  he  was  sent  to  the 
High  School  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  continued  for  the 
next  six  years.  This  day-school  had  long  been  the  most 
celebrated  establishment  of  the  kind  in  this  country.  Its 
mere  antiquity  gave  it  importance,  and  its  position,  as  the 
metropolitan  school,  enabled  it  to  look  down  upon  the  few 
rival  institutions  that  then  existed.  Its  triumph  was  com- 
pleted by  its  not  having  been  then  discovered  that  inter- 
changing Scotch  and  English  boys  did  good  to  both,  and 
by  the  total  absence  of  the  idea,  which  has  since  taken 
possession  of  so  many  weak  heads,  that  whenever  a  boy  is 
supposed  to  be  not  signalizing  himself  in  Scotland,  send- 
ing him  to  England,  instead  of  stupifying  him,  must  set 
him  up.  So  that  in  addition  to  its  age,  its  fame,  and  its 
merits,  it  had  the  still  greater  advantage  of  a  monopoly, 
and  this  in  the  place  where  the  aristocracy  of  Scotland 
chiefly  resided.  It  had  then  what  would  now  be  deemed 
intolerable  defects ;  but  defects  of  the  age,  and  not  of  the 
place,  and  which  do  not  now  exist.  And  it  was  cursed  by 
two  undermasters,  whose  atrocities  young  men  cannot  be 
made  to  believe,  but  old  men  cannot  forget,  and  the  crimi- 
nal law  would  not  now  endure.  It  was  presided  over, 
however,  by  Dr.  Alexander  Adam,  the  author  of  the  Ro- 
man Antiquities,  whose  personal  and  professional  virtues 
were  sufficient  to  sustain,  and  to  redeem,  any  school ;  and 
in  his  two  other  undermasters,  Mr.  Luke  Eraser,  and  Mr. 
French,  he  had  associates  worthy  of  their  chief.* 


*  The  school  still  survives  and  flourishes.     Dr.  Adam  was  succeeded, 
in  1810  by  Professor  Pillans,  who  introduced  the  modern  spirit  of  teach- 


10  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

His  first  master  was  Mr.  Fraser;  who,  from  three  succes- 
sive classes,  of  four  years  each,  had  the  singular  good  for- 
tune to  turn  out  Walter  Scott,  Francis  Jeffrey,  and  Henry 
Brougham.  He  is  justly  described  by  Scott  as  "a  good 
Latin  scholar,  aud  a  very  worthy  man."  There  were  about 
one  hundred  and  twenty  boys  in  Jeffrey's  class,  all  under  one 
master,  unaided  by  any  usher.  When  Jeffrey  was  in  his 
seventeenth  year,  he  wrote  "A  Sketch,"  &c.,  full  of  per- 
sonal recollections  and  views.  In  this  paper  he  gives  the 
following  account  of  his  first  day's  sensations  at  this  school: 

"My  next  step  was  to  the  Grammar  school;  and  here 
my  apprehensions  and  terrors  were  revived  and  magnified; 
for  my  companions,  either  through  a  desire  of  terrifying 
me,  or  because  they  had  found  it  so,  exaggerated  to  me 
the  difficulty  of  our  tasks,  and  dwelt  upon  the  unrelenting 
severity  of  the  master.  Prepossessed  with  these  represen- 
tations, I  trembled  at  what  I  was  destined  to  suffer,  and 
entered  the  school  as  if  it  had  been  a  place  of  torture. 
Never,  I  think,  was  surprise  equal  to  mine,  the  first  day 
of  my  attendance.  I  sat  in  silent  terror — all  was  buzz  and 
tumult  around — a  foot  is  heard  on  the  stairs — every  thing 
is  hushed  as  death,  and  every  dimply  smile  prolongated 
into  an  expression  of  the  most  serious  respect.  The  handle 
of  the  door  sounds — ah !  here  he  comes ! — I  thought  my 
heart  would  have  burst  my  breast.  There  began  my  dis- 
appointment. I  had  expected  to  have  seen  a  little  withered 
figure,  with  a  huge  rod  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  sparkling  with 
rage,  and  his  whole  attitude  resembling  the  pictures  and 

ing,  and  as  many  of  the  modern  improvements  as  was  wise  for  the  place, 
and  was  probably  the  best  head  master  of  a  Scotch  classical  school  that 
had  then  appeared.  He,  when  advanced  in  1820  to  a  chair  in  the  col- 
lege, was  succeeded  by  the  late  excellent  Dr.  Carson ;  who,  on  his  retire- 
ment, made  way  for  the  present  rector,  Dr.  Schmitz  ;  whose  learning  is 
an  honour  to  the  institution,  and  whose  ability  as  a  teacher,  and  worth 
as  a  man,  give  the  school  all  that  strong  claim  to  public  support  that 
the  eminence  of  a  head  master  ought  to  confer. 


HIGH   SCHOOL   OF   EDINBURGH.  11 

descriptions  of  the  furies.  Absurd  as  the  idea  was,  I  don't 
know  how  it  had  laid  hold  of  my  imagination,  and  I  was 
surprised  to  see  it  reversed ;  and  reversed  it  certainly  was. 
For  Mr.  Fraser  was  a  plump,  jolly,  heavy-looking  man, 
rather  foolish-like  as  otherwise,  and,  in  my  opinion,  would 
have  made  a  better  landlord  than  a  pedagogue.  He  seats 
himself,  looks  smilingly  around,  asks  some  simple  ques- 
tions, and  seems  well  pleased  with  answers,  which  I  knew 
I  could  have  made.  I  was  struck ;  I  could  hardly  believe 
my  own  senses ;  and  every  moment  I  looked  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  that  rod  which  had  so  terrified  my  apprehen- 
sions. The  rod,  however,  made  not  its  appearance.  I 
grew  quiet,  but  still  fixed  in  a  stupor  of  wonder.  I  gazed 
at  the  object  before  me,  and  listened  with  the  most  awful 
attention  to  all  the  trifling  words  that  dropped  from  his 
lips.  At  last  he  dismissed  us,  and  I  returned  home  full 
of  satisfaction,  and  told  eagerly  to  every  one  around  me 
my  expectations  and  disappointment." 

He  continued  with  Mr.  Fraser  four  years,  learning  only 
Latin.  Greek  and  mathematics  were  proscribed.  His  few 
surviving  class-fellows  only  recollect  him  as  a  little,  clever, 
anxious  boy,  always  near  the  top  of  the  class,  and  who 
never  lost  a  place  without  shedding  tears.  He  says,  in  the 
Sketch,  that  he  was  "  not  without  rivals,  and  one  of  them 
at  least  got  the  better,  being  decidedly  superior  in  several 
points."  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  even  the  name 
of  his  solitary  victor. 

In  October,  1785,  he  passed  on  to  the  rector's  class, 
where  he  remained  two  years.  He  was  here  in  the  midst  of 
one  hundred  and  forty  boys,  one-half  of  whom  was  a  year  in 
advance  of  the  other  half,  but  all  in  one  room,  and  at  the 
same  time,  and  all  under  a  single  master.  But  this  master 
was  Adam,  who  added  some  Greek  to  the  Latin,  and  de- 
lighted in  the  detection  and  encouragement  of  every  appear- 
ance of  youthful  talent  or  goodness.  "  It  was  from  this 
respectable  man,  (says  Scott,)  that  I  first  learned  the  value 


12  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

of  the  knowledge  I  had  hitherto  considered  oply  as  a  bur- 
densome task."  Jeffrey,  through  life,  recollected  him  with 
the  same  judicious  gratitude.  Of  this  class  he  says,  "Dur- 
ing my  first  year  (with  Fraser)  I  acknowledged  only  one 
superior ;  in  the  last  there  were  not  less  than  ten  who 
ranked  above  me."  Whether  they  were  of  the  ten  or  not, 
the  only  two  of  his  school-fellows  whom  I  have  been  able 
to  trace  into  any  distinction,  are,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Brunton, 
Professor  of  Oriental  Literature,  and  Dr.  Alexander  Munro, 
the  third  of  his  illustrious  line,  Professor  of  Anatomy,  both 
in  the  College  of  Edinburgh. 

Voluntary  reading  was  not  much  in  fashion  then  with 
the  High  School  boys ;  but  Jeffrey  had  not  neglected  it 
utterly,  or  been  frivolous  in  his  selection  ;  for  besides  some 
travels  and  natural  history,  the  library  register  shows  that 
he  was  rather  steady  in  the  perusal  of  Hume's  History, 
and  of  Middleton's  Life  of  Cicero. 

Thus  six  years  passed  away  ;  and  without  being  marked 
by  any  of  those  early  achievements  or  indications  which 
biography  seems  to  think  so  necessary  for  its  interest,  and 
is  therefore  so  apt  to  detect,  or  to  invent,  in  the  dawnings 
of  those  who  have  risen  to  future  eminence.  He  escaped 
being  made  a  wonder  of.  Forty  years  after  leaving  the 
school,  he  testified  his  recollection  of  it  by  contributing 
X50  towards  its  removal  to  its  present  beautiful  building,* 
and  noble  site. 

One  day,  in  the  winter  of  1786-7,  he  was  standing  on 
the  High  Street,  staring  at  a  man  whose  appearance  struck 
him ;  a  person  standing  at  a  shop  door  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and  said,  "  Ay,  laddie !  ye  may  weel  look  at 
that  man  !  That's  Robert  Burns."  He  never  saw  Burns 
again. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  winter  of  1787,  he  was  sent  to 
Glasgow  College,  in  his  fourteenth  year.  This  is  often  a 

*  By  Mr.  Thomas  Hamilton,  architect. 


GLASGOW   COLLEGE.  13 

dangerous  liberation ;  but  it  was  very  salutary  for  one 
whose  ambition  was  already  awakened,  and  whose  taste 
was  beginning  to  feel  the  literary  attractions  which  proved 
the  delight  of  his  life.  Exemption  from  the  task-work  of 
school,  and  getting  into  a  region  of  new  scenes,  and  with 
higher  pursuits,  and  more  independence,  were  the  very 
change  which  his  progress  required.  I  believe  that  Glas- 
gow was  preferred,  with  a  view  to  the  Oxford  exhibitions, 
to  which  it  has  long  owed  so  many  of  its  best  students, 
and  of  which  it  has  in  general  made  so  fair  a  use.  None 
of  our  other  colleges  have  such  academic  prizes.  If  there 
be  any  rich  Scotchman  who  is  now  thinking  of  perpetuating 
his  name  by  public  munificence,  let  him  not  waste  him- 
self on  hospitals,  or  such  common  objects,  but  let  him 
think  of  the  depressing  poverty  of  his  native  colleges,  and 
of  the  honour  which  a  long  roll  of  distinguished  men, 
receiving  the  higher  part  of  their  education  through  his 
bounty,  has,  for  a  century  and  a  half,  conferred  on  the 
founder  of  the  Glasgow  exhibitions.  But  if  Jeffrey's 
father  had  any  such  view,  it  was  soon  abandoned. 

He  remained  at  Glasgow  for  two  sessions,  that  is,  from 
October,  1787,  to  May,  1788,  and  from  October,  1788,  to 
May,  1789 ;  and  was  at  home  during  the  intervening  sum- 
mers. In  his  first  session  his  classes  were  the  Greek, 
taught  by  Professor  John  Young,  and  the  Logic,  by  Pro- 
fessor John  Jardine.  Neither  masters  nor  pupil  could  have 
been  better  suited  for  each  other.  They  gave  him  good 
teaching,  and  he  took  them  a  spirit  most  anxious  to  be 
taught.  Jardine,  in  particular,  though  recently  appointed, 
and  conspicuous  neither  for  ability  nor  for  learning,  had 
already  evinced  that  singular  power  of  making  youths 
work,  which,  for  the  forty  subsequent  years,  made  his  class 
the  intellectual  grindstone  of  the  college.  Jeffrey  seems 
to  have  fancied  at  first  that  Jardine  did  not  take  sufficient 
notice  of  him  ;  but  he  soon  formed  a  steady  friendship  with 
both  him  and  Young,  and  never  forgot  what  he  owed  them. 


14  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

There  was  an  article  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  in  1821, 
(No.  70,  Art.  3,)  on  classical  education,  shortly  after  Mr. 
Young's  death.  It  was  not  written  by  Jeffrey,  but  he  added 
a  discriminating  note  explaining  Young's  merits,  (p.  308 ;) 
and  in  addressing  the  college  on  his  first  inauguration  as 
rector,  he  mentioned  him  and  Jardine  in  grateful  and 
affectionate  terms.  Of  Jardine,  he  says  :  "  I  cannot  resist 
congratulating  myself,  and  all  this  assembly,  that  I  still 
Bee  beside  me  one  surviving  instructor  of  my  early  youth, 
— the  most  revered,  the  most  justly  valued,  of  all  my  in- 
structors— the  individual  of  whom  I  must  be  allowed  to 
say  here,  what  I  have  never  omitted  to  say  in  every  other 
place,  that  it  is  to  him,  and  his  most  judicious  instructions, 
that  I  owe  my  taste  for  letters,  and  any  little  literary  dis- 
tinction I  may  since  have  been  enabled  to  attain.  It  lA  no 
small  part  of  the  gratification  of  this  day  to  find  him  here, 
proceeding,  with  unabated  vigour  and  ardour,  in  the  emi- 
nently useful  career  to  which  his  life  has  been  dedicated ; 
and  I  hope  and  trust  that  he  will  yet  communicate  to  many 
generations  of  pupils  those  inestimable  benefits  to  which 
many  may  easily  do  greater  honour,  but  for  which  no  one 
can  be  more  grateful  than  the  humble  individual  who  now 
addresses  you." 

The  only  class  that  I  can  ascertain  his  having  attended 
during  his  second  session  was  the  Moral  Philosophy,  under 
Professor  Arthur  ;  who,  being  the  assistant  and  successor 
of  Reid,  must  be  supposed  to  have  been  a  person  of  some 
merit. 

Professor  John  Millar,  whose  subj'ect  was  Law  and  Go- 
vernment, was  then  in  his  zenith.  His  lectures  were  admi- 
rable ;  and  so  was  his  conversation ;  and  his  evening  parties ; 
and  his  boxing  (gloved)  with  his  favourite  pupils.  No  young 
man  admitted  to  his  house  ever  forgot  him  ;  and  the  ablest 
used  to  say  that  the  discussions  into  which  he  led  them, 
domestically  and  convivially,  were  the  most  exciting  and 
the  most  instructive  exercises  in  which  they  ever  took  a 


GLASGOW   COLLEGE.  15 

part.  Jeffrey  says  that  his  books,  excellent  though  they 
be,  "  reveal  nothing  of  that  magical  vivacity  which  made 
his  conversation  and  his  lectures  still,  more  full  of  delight 
than  of  instruction ;  of  that  frankness  and  fearlessness  which 
led  him  to  engage,  without  preparation,  in  every  fair  con- 
tention, and  neither  to  dread  nor  disdain  the  powers  of  any 
opponent ;  and  still  less,  perhaps,  of  that  remarkable  and 
unique  talent,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  clothe,  in  con- 
cise and  familiar  expressions,  the  most  profound  and  ori- 
ginal views  of  the  most  complicated  questions  ;  and  thus  to 
render  the  knowledge  which  he  communicated  so  manage- 
able and  unostentatious,  as  to  turn  out  his  pupils  from  the 
sequestered  retreats  of  a  college,  in  a  condition  immedi- 
ately to  apply  their  acquisitions  to  the  business  and  affairs 
of  the  world."  (Rectorial  Address.) 

It  has  been  supposed  that  this  description  could  only 
have  been  drawn  by  one  who  had  attended  the  course; 
but  this  is  a  mistake.  It  was  the  result  of  subsequent 
acquaintance,  and  of  common  fame  ;  for  he  was  never  one 
of  Millar's  pupils.  This  is  confirmed  by  the  class  lists, 
which  have  been  preserved,  and  do  not  contain  Jeffrey's 
name ;  and  by  two  of  Mr.  Millar's  daughters,  recently,  if 
not  still,  alive,  who  remember  their  father  and  Jeffrey's 
introduction  to  each  other,  which  took  place  in  the  theatre, 
some  years  after  the  latter  had  left  Glasgow.  The  truth 
is,  that  Millar's  free  doctrines,  and  his  Whig  party,  were 
held  in  abhorrence  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  senior;  who,  after  it 
appeared  that  the  political  opinions  of  Francis  were  on  the 
popular  side,  and  incorrigible,  used  to  blame  himself  for 
having  allowed  the  mere  vicinity  of  Millar's  influence  to 
corrupt  and  ruin  his  son. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Macfarlane,  now  Principal  of  the  College 
of  Glasgow,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Haldane,  now  Principal  of 
the  College  of  St.  Mary's,  St.,Andrews,  were  fellow-stu- 
dents with  Jeffrey  at  Glasgow,  and  have  given  me  some 
information  about  his  state  and  proceedings  there.  Prin- 


16  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

cipal  Macfarlane  says,  that,  during  his  first  session,  "  he 
exhibited  nothing  remarkable  except  a  degree  of  quick- 
ness, bordering,  as  some  thought,  on  petulance ;  and  the 
•whim  of  cherishing  a  premature  moustache,  very  black,  and 
covering  the  whole  of  j^s  upper  lip,  for  which  he  was  much 
laughed  at  and  teased  by  his  fellow-students."  But  there 
was  no  want  of  spirit ;  for  Adam  Smith  had  "been  set  up 
that  year  for  the  office  of  Lord  Rector,  which  depends  on 
the  votes  of  the  professors  and  students,  and  Principal 
Haldane  recollects  seeing  a  little  black  creature,  whom  he 
had  not  observed  before,  haranguing  some  boys  in  the 
green  against  voting  for  Dr.  Smith.  This  was  Jeffrey. 
Not  that  he  had  any  objection  either  to  the  Wealth  of  Na- 
tions or  to  its  author  ;  but  the  Economist  was  patronised  by 
the  professors,  which  has  often  made  the  students  take  the 
opposite  side.  The  opposition,  however,  was  withdrawn, 
and,  on  the  12th  of  December,  1787,  Smith  was  installed. 
It  is  very  unlikely  that  Jeffrey  would  miss  seeing  such  a 
ceremony,  in  honour  of  such  a  man ;  but  an  expression  in 
his  own  Inaugural  Address,  where  he  says  that  Smith  "  is 
reported  .to  have  remained  silent,"  seems  to  throw  a  doubt 
on  his  presence. 

In  his  second  session  he  disclosed  himself  more  satisfac- 
torily. Principal  Macfarlane  says,  "  He  broke  upon  us 
very  brilliantly.  In  a  debating  society,  called,  I  think,  the 
Historical  and  Critical,  he  distinguished  himself  as  one  of 
the  most  acute  and  fluent  speakers ;  his  favourite  subjects 
being  criticism  and  metaphysics."  Professor  Jardine  used 
to  require  his  pupils  to  write  an  exercise,  and  then  to  make 
them  give  in  written  remarks  on  each  other's  work.  Prin- 
cipal Haldane's  essay  fell  to  be  examined  by  Jeffrey,  who, 
on  this  occasion  probably,  made  his  first  critical  adventure. 
"  Mv  exercise  (says  the  Principal)  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Jeffrey,  and  sorely  do  I  repent  that  I  did  not  preserve  the 
essay,  with  his  remarks  upon  it.  For  though  they  were 
unmercifully  severe,  they  gave  early  promise  of  that  critical 


THE   ELOCUTION   SOCIETY.  17 

acumen  which  was  afterward  fully  developed  in  the  pages 
of  the  Edinburgh  Review.  In  returning  my  essay  to  me, 
the  good  professor,  willing  to  save  my  feelings,  read  some 
of  the  remarks  at  the  beginning  of  the  criticism,  but  the 
remainder  he  read  in  a  suppressed  tone  of  voice,  muttering 
something  as  if  he  thought  it  too  severe."  The  first  prize 
in  the  Logic  class  was  awarded,  by  the  votes  of  the  pupils, 
to  a  person  called  Godfrey ;  but  he  was  much  older  than 
Jeffrey,  who,  Principal  Haldane  says,  had,  all  throughout, 
made  "a  brilliant  figure,"  and  was,  "unquestionably,  the 
ablest  student  of  the  class." 

Some  of  the  students  formed  themselves  into  the  Elocu- 
tion Society,  which  met  every  Monday  evening,  for  their 
improvement  in  recitation.  From  recitation  to  acting  is 
but  a  short  step;  and,  accordingly,  they  meant  to  have 
performed  Tancred  and  Sigismunda,  when  Principal  Mac- 
farlane  was  to  have  shone  as  Rodolpho,  and  Jeffrey  as  Si- 
gismunda. But,  as  an  apartment  within  the  college  was  to 
have  been  the  theatre,  the  academical  authorities  stopped 
the  scheme,  to  the  rage  of  the  disappointed  actors.  On 
the  last  page  of  his  notes  of  Professor  Arthur's  lectures, 
Jeffrey  sets  forth  that,  before  finally  leaving  the  college, 
he  had  one  thing  to  "advise,  to  declare,  to  reprobate,  to 
ask,  and  to  wish." — "  What  I  have  to  advise  is,  Mr.  Arthur 
and  the  Principal  to  pay  a  little  more  attention  to  the 
graces  in  their  respective  modes  of  lecturing  and  praying." 
"What  I  declare  is,  that  the  -Faculty  has  acted  in  the 
meanest,  most  illiberal,  and  despicable  manner  with  regard 
to  the  Elocution  Club." — &c.  &c. 

He  began  here  the  practice,  to  which  he  steadily  ad- 
hered, of  taking  full  notes  of  all  the  lectures  he  heard ; — not 
mere  transcripts  of  what  the  lecturer  said,  but  expositions 
by  the  pupil,  in  his  own  language,  of  what  he  had  meant, 
with  discussions  of  the  doctrines.  Hence,  even  the  divi- 
sion of  separate  prelections  is  seldom  regularly  observed ; 
but  the  whole  course  is  run  together,  in  a  way  which,  'while 
B  2* 


18  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

it  does  not  swamp  the  professor,  afforded  an  excellent  exer- 
cise for  the  student,  both  in  thinking  and  composing. 

The  turn  that  his  mind  was  taking  is  evinced  by  the 
following  letter  to  his  old  master,  Dr.  Adam,  which,  for  a 
boy  of  fifteen,  seems  to  be  curious: — "Dear  Sir,  I  do  not 
question  that  you  will  be  surprised  at  the  freedom  of  this 
uninvited  intrusion  ;  and  when  I  tell  you  (by  way  of  apo- 
logy) that  for  these  some  weeks  I  have  been  impelled  to 
the  deed  by  the  impulse  of  some  internal  agent,  I  question 
if  your  surprise  will  be  diminished.  As  a  student  of  phi- 
losophy I  thought  myself  bound  to  withstand  the  tempta- 
tion, and  as  an  adept  in  logic,  to  analyze  the  source  of  its 
effects.  Both  attempts  have  been  equally  unsuccessful.  I 
have  neither  been  able  to  resist  the  inclination,  nor  to  dis- 
cover its  source.  My  great  affection  for  the  study  of  mind 
led  me  a  weary  way  before  I  abandoned  this  attempt ;  nor 
did  I  leave  the  track  of  inquiry  till  I  thought  I  had  dis- 
covered that  it  proceeded  from  some  emotion  in  the  powers 
of  the  will  rather  than  that  of  the  intellect.  My  epistolary 
communications  have  hitherto  been  confined  to  those  whom 
I  could  treat  with  all  the  familiarity  of  the  most  perfect 
equality,  and  whose  experience  or  attainments  I  was  not  ac- 
customed to  consider  as  superior  to  my  own.  This,  I  think, 
will  account  and  apologize  for  any  peculiarity  you  may 
discern  in  my  style.  I  think  it  superfluous  to  assure  you, 
that  whatever  appearance  of  levity  or  petulance  that  may 
bear,  the  slightest,  the  most  distant  shadow  of  disrespect 
was  never  intended.  When  I  recollect  the  mass  of  instruc- 
tion I  have  received  from  your  care — when  I  consider  the 
excellent  principles  it  was  calculated  to  convey — when  I 
contemplate  the  perspicuous,  attentive,  and  dispassionate 
mode  of  conveyance — and,  when  I  experience  the  advan- 
tages and  benefits  of  all  these,  I  cannot  refrain  the  grati- 
fication of  a  finer  feeling  in  the  acknowledgment  of  my 
obligations.  I  am  sufficiently  sensible  that  these  are  hack- 
neyed and  cant  phrases ;  but,  as  they  express  the  senti- 


LETTER   FROM   DR.  ADAM.  19 

merits  of  my  soul,  I  think  they  must  be  tolerated.  If  you 
ever  find  leisure  to  notice  this,  I  shall  esteem  your  answer 
as  a  particular  honour ;  and  that  you  may  more  easily 
accomplish  this,  I  inform  you  that  I  lodge  at  Mr.  Milne's, 
Montrose  Lodgings.  So — this  is  an  introductory  letter  ! 
It  wants  indeed  the  formality  of  such  a  performance ;  but 
the  absence  of  that  requisite  may  for  once  be  supplied  by 
the  sincerity  with  which  I  assure  you  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours, 
&c.  &c.,  F.  JEFFREY. — Glasgow,  January,  1789." 

To  this  communication  the  worthy  rector  sent  the  fol- 
lowing answer: — Edinburgh,  January,  1789 — "I  received 
your  favour  with  great  pleasure,  and  the  more  so  as  you 
say  it  has  proceeded  from  an  emotion  in  the  powers  of  the 
will  rather  than  the  intellect.  I  perceive,  however,  it  has 
been  the  joint  effect  of  both,  and  I  am  happy  to  observe 
the  latter  so  well  cultivated.  For  your  sentiments  and 
expressions  are  such  as  indicate  no  small  proficiency  in  the 
studies  in  which  you  have  been  engaged.  I  should  have 
shown  you  how  much  I  valued  your  epistolary  communica- 
tions by  acknowledging  them  in  course ;  but  I  delayed  it 
till  I  should  have  a  little  more  leisure.  It  is  long  since 
I  have  relinquished  the  field  of  metaphysical  speculation, 
otherwise  I  should  answer  you  in  kind.  I  was  very  fond 
of  these  studies  at  your  time  of  life  ;  but  I  have  exchanged 
them,  if  not  for  more  entertaining,  at  least  for  more  prac- 
tical pursuits ;  as  I  hope  you  will  soon  do,  with  all  the 
success  which  your  industry  and  talents  merit.  You  need 
not  be  afraid  to  take  up  hackneyed  phrases ;  for  it  is  the 
property  of  genius  to  convert  every  thing  to  its  own  use, 
and  to  give  the  most  common  things  a  new  appearance. 
I  thank  you  for  your  very  polite  compliments.  You  have 
handsomely  expressed  what  I  have  at  least  attempted,  for 
I  have  not  yet  effected  what  I  wished.  There  is  much 
room  for  improvement  in  the  plan  of  education  in  this 
country ;  but  there  are  so  many  obstacles  to  it,  that  I 
begin  to  despair  of  seeing  it  accomplished.  One  thing 


20  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 


gives  me  the  greatest  satisfaction — that  in  our  universities, 
and  particularly  in  yours — young  men  have  the  best  op- 
portunities of  acquiring  extensive  knowledge,  and  the  most 
literal  principles.  I  hope  you  will  never  forget  to  join 
classical  elegance  with  philosophical  accuracy  and  investi- 
gation. Even  the  mechanical  part  of  writing  is  not  below 
your  attention.  You  see  the  freedom  which  you  are  always 
to  expect  from  me,  and  I  know  you  will  take  it  in  good 
part." 

It  would  have  been  comfortable  to  Jeffrey's  many  cor- 
respondents if  he  had  taken  the  rector's  hint  about  the 
mechanical  part  of  writing.  His  incapacity  of  manuscript 
seems  to  have  been  a  very  early  subject  of  domestic  cen- 
sure. He  tells  his  sister  Mary  about  this  time,  "  I  am 
sure  I  would  willingly  forfeit  any  of  my  attainments  to 
acquire  a  good  form  of  writing.  For  I  am  convinced  much 
more  time  and  trouble  have  I  bestowed  upon  this,  without 
effect,  than  would  have  been  sufficient  for  the  acquisition 
of  a  much  more  complex  object.  The  truth  is,  I  detest  the 
employment.  Such  a  mechanical  drudgery !  and  without 
any  certainty  of  the  attainment  of  my  end."  Of  course, 
the  detestation  prevailed,  and  a  more  illegible  hand  has 
very  rarely  tormented  friends.  The  plague  of  small  and 
misshapen  letters  is  aggravated  by  a  love  of  contractions, 
and  an  aversion  to  the  relief  of  new  paragraphs.  There 
are  whole  volumes,  and  even  an  entire  play  with  the  full 
complement  of  acts  and  scenes,  without  a  new  line.  Here, 
however,  as  in  every  thing  else,  he  improved  as  he  ad- 
vanced. 

To  those  who  only  knew  him  in  his  maturity,  there  was 
nothing  more  prominent  in  the  character  of  his  intellect 
than  its  quickness.  He  seemed  to  invent  arguments,  and 
to  pour  out  views,  and  to  arrive  at  conclusions,  instinc- 
tively. Preparation  was  a  thing  with  which  it  was  thought 
that  so  elastic  a  spirit  did  not  require  to  be  encumbered. 
Nevertheless,  quick  though  he  undoubtedly  was,  no  slow 


•EARLY   INDUSTRY.  21 

mind  was  ever  aided  by  steadier  industry.  If  there  be 
any  thing  valuable  in  the  history  of  his  progress,  it  seems 
to -me  to  consist  chiefly  in  the  example  of  meritorious 
labour  which  his  case  exhibits  to  young  men,  even  of  the 
highest  talent.  If  he  had  chosen  to  be  idle,  no  youth 
would  have  had  a  stronger  temptation  or  a  better  excuse 
for  that  habit ;  because  his  natural  vigour  made  it  easy  for 
him  to  accomplish  far  more  than  his  prescribed  tasks  re- 
spectably, without  much  trouble,  and  with  the  additional 
applause  of  doing  them  off  hand.  But  his  early  passion 
for  distinction  was  never  separated  from  the  conviction, 
that  in  order  to  obtain  it,  he  must  work  for  it. 

Accordingly,  from  his  very  boyhood,  he  was  not  only  a 
diligent,  but  a  very  systematic  student ;  and  in  particular, 
he  got  very  early  into  the  invaluable  habit  of  accompanying 
all  his  pursuits  by  collateral  composition  ;  never  for  the 
sake  of  display,  but  solely  for  his  own  culture.  The  steadi- 
ness with  which  this  almost  daily  practice  was  adhered  to 
would  be  sufficiently  attested  by  the  mass  of  his  writings 
which  happens  to  be  preserved ;  though  these  be  obviously 
only  small  portions  of  what  he  must  have  executed.  There 
are  notes  of  lectures,  essays,  translations,  abridgments, 
speeches,  criticisms,  tales,  poems,  &c. ;  not  one  of  them 
done  from  accidental  or  momentary  impulse,  but  all  wrought 
out  by  perseverance  and  forethought,  with  a  view  to  his 
own  improvement.  And  it  is  now  interesting  to  observe 
how  very  soon  he  fell  into  that  line  of  criticism  which 
afterward  was  the  business  of  his  life.  Nearly  the  whole 
of  his  early  original  prose  writings  are  of  a  critical  charac- 
ter ;  and  this  inclination  toward  analysis  and  appreciation 
was  so  strong,  that  almost  every  one  of  his  compositions 
closes  by  a  criticism  on  himself. 

Of  these  papers  only  four,  written  at  Glasgow,  remain. 
They  are  on  the  Benevolent  Affections,  the  Immortality 
of  the  Soul,  the  Law  of  Primogeniture,  and  Sorcery  and 
Incantation.  The  one  on  the  Benevolent  Affections,  ex- 


22  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

tending  to  about  fifty  folio  pages  of  ordinary  writing,  is 
the  earliest  of  his  surviving  compositions.  Both  in  its 
style  and  its  reasoning,  it  seems  to  me  an  extraordinary 
performance  for  his  age. 

He  was  occasionally  assisted  in  his  Glasgow  studies  by 
Mr.  James  Marshall,  who  was  soon  afterward  appointed  one 
of  the  college  chaplains  ;  and  at  last  had  the  charge  of  the 
Presbyterian  congregation  of  Waterford,  where  he  died  in 
1827.  He  was  an  able  and  accomplished  man,  of  considera- 
ble colloquial  powers,  and  greatly  respected.  His  pupil  and 
he  kept  up  their  acquaintance  so  long  as  Mr.  Marshajl  lived. 

The  pupil  was  subject  at  this  time,  or  supposed  so,  to 
what  he  deemed  superstitious  fears;  to  cure  himself  of 
which  he  used  to  walk  alone  at  midnight  round  the  Cathe- 
dral and  its  graveyard,  which  were  then  far  more  solitary 
than  they  are  now. 

After  leaving  Glasgow,  in  May,  1789,  he  returned  home, 
and  remained  in  and  about  Edinburgh  till  September,  1791, 
when  he  went  to  Oxford.  During  this  long  and  important 
interval  he  seems,  fortunately,  to  have  been  left  entirely 
to  himself.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  attended 
any  of  the  Edinburgh  College  classes,  except  a  course  of 
Scotch  Law,  by  Professor  David  Hume,  (Session  1789—90,) 
and  of  Civil  Law,  by  Mr.  Dick,  (Session  1790-91,)  and  he 
was  not  even  distracted  by  companions.  He  had  scarcely 
a  single  intimate  associate  beyond  his  own  relations.  The 
place  he  most  delighted  to  go  to  was  Herbertshire,  in  the 
county  of  Stirling,  belonging  to  his  uncle-in-law,  William 
Morehead,  Esq..  He  was  strongly  attached  to  that  gen- 
tleman, and  to  all  his  family.  His  son  Robert  was  his 
great  friend  through  life.  The  place  was  then  entire,  well 
kept,  and  unpolluted  by  manufactures ;  the  house  full  of 
good  plate  and  good  pictures,  with  a  sumptuous  cellar,  and 
a  capital  library.  The  happiest  days  of  his  youth  were 
those  spent  there.  He  once  made  me  go  with  him  from 
Stirling  to  see  it ;  but  it  was  deformed  and  impoverished, 


BETWEEN  GLASGOW  AND  OXFOKD.         23 

and  saddened  by  many  painful  changes ;  and  he  came 
away,  resolving  never  to  see  it  again. 

No  period  of  his  youth  was  passed  more  usefully  than 
this ;  when  he  was  left  to  his  own  thoughts  and  to  his  own 
occupations.  He  adhered  so  steadily  in  what  he  calls  the 
"dear,  retired,  adored,  little  window"  of  his  Lawnmarket 
garret,  to  his  system  of  self-working,  that,  though  leading 
a  very  cheerful  and  open  air  life,  the  papers  of  his  compo- 
sition that  remain,  deducting  articles  of  only  a  sheet  or 
two,  are  ahout  sixty  in  number.  This  is  not  mentioned  in 
order  to  earn  for  him  the  foolish  and  unfortunate  praise 
too  often  given  to  prematurity,  but  as  facts  in  the  history 
of  the  individual,  and  because  they  reveal  the  culture  which 
was  rewarded  by  the  subsequent  harvest.  Besides  various 
lighter  pages,  there  are  among  these  exercises,  translations 
of  Cicero,  pro  Ligario  and  pro  Milone,  an  epitome  of.  Gil- 
lies's  Greece,  a  Discourse  on  Ancient  and  Modern  Learn- 
ing, Notes  from  Beattie's  Essays,  Remarks  on  Composition, 
chiefly  in  favour  of  the  reality  of  happy  moments,  an  Essay 
on  Happiness,  one  on  Physiognomy,  a  clever  and  well-writ- 
ten refutation  of  Lavater,  one  on  Poetry,  being  an  excel- 
lent discourse  on  the  poetical  cnaracter,  four  sermons,  and 
a  long  poem  on  Dreaming.  Several  other  papers  of  a 
higher  order,  however  excellent,  owe  their  principal  in- 
terest now  to  the  crWcisms  on  themselves  by  which  they 
are  closed. 

Some  of  these  are  as  follows : — 

"Excerpts  carptatim  from  Blackstone's  Commentaries;" 
being,  besides  excerpts,  a  condensed  exposition  and  discus- 
sion of  the  author's  doctrines. 

Some  translations  from  Livy ;  among  others,  "  The  speech 
of  Appian  Claudius  against  the  motion  for  withdrawing 
the  army  from  the  siege  of  Veii"  It  is  not  a  bad  transla- 
tion ;  but  the  best  of  it  is  these  closing  remarks  : — "  The 
contents  of  the  preceding  pages  are  certainly  not  estimable 
productions,  nor  are  the  moments  which  were  spent  in  their 


24  J*      LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

composition  to  be  recalled  with  that  complacency  which 
generally  attends  the  recollection  of  well-spent  time.  They 
are  neither,  however,  totally  contemptible,  nor  altogether 
without  use.  The  translation  is  of  that  vague  and  licen- 
tious nature  which  scruples  not  to  insert  any  extraneous 
ideas  which  seem  entitled  to  a  place,  or  to  omit  such  as 
appear  to  be  unjustly  admitted.  The  habits  of  the  orato- 
rical and  florid  style  that  I  have  assumed,  though  totally 
improper  for  any  other  species  of  composition,  are  some- 
times beneficial  to  those,  who,  like  me,  have  some  prospect  of 
one  day  speaking  in  public.  At  any  rate,  the  practice  of  it, 
as  it  increases  the  store  of  new  expressions,  has  a  necessary 
and  rapid  tendency  to  enrich  and  enlarge  our  common  lan- 
guage ;  and  it  appears  to  me  that  those  benefits  are  more 
certainly,  or  at  least,  more  easily,  acquired  from  aiming 
at  this  sort  of  luxuriance  in  translation,  than  in  original 
composition,  both  because  it  is  difficult  to  invent  topics  so 
well  adapted  to  the  embellishments  of  oratory  as  the  genius 
of  the  ancients  has  preserved,  and  chiefly  because  the  mind, 
not  being  at  all  occupied  about  the  sentiments  or  sense  of 
the  work,  is  at  full  leisure  to  attend  to  the  expression, 
which,  in  original  composition,  must  always  be  a  secondary 
object.  It  is,  after  all,  however,  but  a  work  of  indolence  ; 
and  so  little  exertion  is  requisite  to  succeed  in  it,  as  well 
as  it  is  possible  for  me  to  succeed,  that  I  suspect  there  is 
more  of  ostentation  and  self-flattery  than  real  love  of 
knowledge,  or  desire  of  improvement,  in  thus  formally 
writing  down  what  I  could  go  on  to  translate  extempore 
with  very  little  or  no  hesitation.  To  all  conscientious  re- 
bukes of  this  nature,  I  reply  in  a  set  form, — It  is  better 
than  doing  nothing. — F.  J. — December  14th,  1790." 

"  An  Epitome  of  Lucretius,  or  the  nature  of  things" 
ends  thus : — "  The  epitome  I  have  now  completed  of  this 
beautiful  author  is,  I  am  sensible,  a  very  disgraceful  per- 
formance. The  poetical  beauties  of  the  original  are  en- 
tirely lost ;  the  ingenious  climax  of  argument  which  he 


EARLY   EXERCISES.  25 

has  uniformly  adopted,  as  well  as  the  rhetorical  declama- 
tion he  has  employed  to  enforce  them,  are  also  necessarily 
annihilated  in  a  work  which  only  gives  the  result  of  the 
progress,  and  is  contented  with  barely  stating  the  sum  of 
the  reasoning.  For  any  other  person's  undertaking  a  work 
like  this,  I  should,  I  believe,  be  as  much  puzzled  to  dis- 
cover a  reason,  as  they  may  possibly  be  to  account  for  my 
attempting  it.  The  explication  of  the  matter  is  this : — 
Having  heard  the  philosophy  of  Lucretius  much  under- 
valued, and  partly  ridiculed,  by  personages  whose  con- 
demnation I  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  as  an  infalli- 
ble token  of  merit  in  the  object  of  it,  I  resolved  as  usual 
to  employ  my  own  judgment,  either  to  reverse  or  confirm 
their  award.  A  bare  perusal  I  at  first  thought  would  be 
sufficient  for  this  purpose ;  but  so  uniformly  was  I  trans- 
ported and  carried  away  by  the  charms  of  the  poetry,  and 
the  inimitable  strength  of  the  expressions,  that  I  generally 
forgot  the  subject  on  which  they  were  displayed — and  in 
the  enthusiasm  of  admiration,  lost  that  cool  impartiality 
which  alone  can  produce  a  correct  judgment.  It  was  ne- 
cessary, then,  to  divest  the  philosophy — the  reason — of 
this  poem  of  that  blaze  of  light,  which,  by  dazzling  the 
senses,  prevented  them  from  judging  truly.  I  have  done 
so,  and  the  few  preceding  pages  contain  the  execution. 
This  is  all  I  think  necessary  to  write  for  my  future  in- 
formation. The  result  of  my  experiment  I  do  not  choose 
to  perpetuate.  My  judgment,  I  hope,  for  some  years,  will 
not  at  least  be  decaying — and  while  that  is  not  the  case,  I 
should  wish  it  always  to  form  its  daily  opinion  from  a  daily 
exertion.  The  authority  of  our  own  opinion,  though  per- 
haps the  least  dangerous  of  any,  still  participates  in  those 
inconveniences  which  all  species  of  authority  create,  and 
while  a  man's  powers  are  unimpaired,  it  were  a  lucky  thing 
if  he  could  every  day  forget  the  sentiments  of  the  former, 
that  they  might  receive  the  correction  or  confirmation  of  a 
eecond  judgment.— Edinburgh,  Sept.  3, 1790."— F.  J. 


26  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

A  discourse  without  any  title,  but  which  is  on  the  terms 
and  the  ideas,  poetry  and  prose,  terminates  thus: — "I^do 
not  like  this  piece.  But  of  which  of  my  productions  can  I 
not  say  the  same  ?  Here,  however,  it  is  said  with  peculiar 
energy.  The  style  is  glaringly  unequal :  affectedly  plain 
in  the  beginning,  oratorical  in  the  end.  The  design  is  not 
one,  and  I  am  afraid  the  sentiments  not  consistent.  It  is 
proper  to  remark  that  the  word  prose,  which  is  the  only 
one  I  can  find  antithetical  to  poesy,  is  not  qualified  for 
that  station  ;  for  it  implies,  I  believe,  merely  a  mechanical 
distinction,  and  is  properly  opposed  to  verse.  This  has 
occasioned  part  of  the  confusion  I  lament.  This  is  not  the 
time  to  add,  or  to  correct ;  but  before  I  had  done  asserting 
the  contrary,  I  began  to  suspect  that  the  old  ground  of 
discrimination  was  preferable  to  my  mode  of  abrogating  it, 
and  that  we  were  in  the  wrong  to  give  a  more  extensive 
meaning  to  the  term  poetical,  when  applied  to  a  sentiment, 
or  genius,  which  ought  only  to  signify  that  they  were  pe- 
culiarly fit  to  be  exposed  in  that  style,  which  (though  not 
from  any  magical  or  innate  sympathy)  had  been  most 
usually  allotted  to  the  expression  of  those  ideas.  Were  I 
to  proceed  to  unfold  this  new  idea  at  full  length,  I  would 
very  likely,  in  the  coui'se  of  my  defence  of  it,  discover 
some  new  obstacle  to  my  belief  which  might  return  me  to 
my  abdicated  opinion,  or  perhaps  turn  me  over  to  yet 
another,  which  might  serve  me  in  the  same  way.  I  have 
no  mind  to  encounter  such  a  hydra." — F.  J. 

This  is  his  apology  for  a  translation  of  part  of  Racine's 
Britannicus  into  blank  verse — "  This  barbarous  version  of 
the  elegant  Racine,  I  feel  myself  bound  to  stigmatize  with 
its  genuine  character,  that  as  often  as  the  proofs  of  my 
stupidity,  displayed  on  the  foregoing  pages,  shall  mortify 
my  pride,  I  may  be  comforted  by  the  instance  of  candour 
set  forth  on  this.  At  those  moments,  too,  I  would  likewise 
have  it  known,  that  these  verses,  if  so  they  may  be  called, 
were  written  down  just  as  they  were  composed,  and  w?!,h 


EARLY  .EXERCISES.  27 

more  rapidity  than  I  in  general  blot  my  prose.  Fully 
satisfied  with  my  performance,  and  fully  convinced  that 
any  purpose  I  had  in  view  is  abundantly  fulfilled,  I  think 
it  unnecessary  to  labour  through  another  act,  and  have  just 
sensibility  enough  to  restrain  me  from  unnecessarily  man- 
gling more  of  so  complete  an  original.  I  find  myself  not  a 
little  puzzled  to  assign  any  use  to  which  this  work  may  be 
put.  Though,  upon  reflection,  I  find  that  it  may  be  of 
some  service  to  me  in  the  labours  of  future  days,  and,  by 
being  compared  with  any  of  my  more  correct  performances, 
will  serve  as  a  perpetual  foil,  and  stimulate  my  exertion, 
by  showing  me  how  much  my  late  works  surpassed  my 
earlier.  It  would  not  perhaps  be  inexcusable  if  I  should 
insist  that,  being  written  with  that  design,  the  multiplicity 
of  its  imperfections  is  commendable. — F.  J. — Edinburgh, 
October  29,  1790." 

Four  Speeches  are  supposed  to  be  addressed  to  the  House 
of  Commons.  The  first  is  entitled  "  Orationis  Exemplar" 
the  se'cond,  »  Tennis"  the  third,  "  Mediocris"  the  fourth, 
"  iSublimis."  ^Exemplar  is  on  the  constitutional  control 
of  the  Commons  over  the  public  expenditure.  Tennis 
urges  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade ;  and  Mediocris  is  a 
fierce  onset  on  a  member  who  had  agreed  with  him  in 
this,  but  puts  it  on  a  bad  ground,  and  "  was  somewhat 
too  abstruse  and  metaphysical  for  my  comprehension." 
Sublimis  fulminates  against  a  wretch  who  had  actually  de- 
fended the  trade.  But  then,  "  the  proceedings  of  this  day, 
Mr.  Speaker,  have  caused  me  to  feel  more  shame  and  sorrow 
than  I  ever  believed  could  fall  to  the  lot  of  integrity  and 
honour ;  and  I  am  the  more  severely  affected  by  their 
oppression,  as  they  have  assailed  me  from  a  quarter  whence 
they  were  little  expected,  and  have  flowed  from  a  source 
which  I  used  to  regard  as  the  fountain  of  my  happiness 
anoY  pride,"  &c. 

. "  My  opinions  of  some  authors"  is  a  collection  of  short 
critical  judgments.  He  says  in  a  note,  "  I  have  ocly 


28 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 


ventured  to  characterize  those  who  have  actually  under- 
gone my  perusal."  Yet  they  are  fifty  in  number ;  and, 
besides  most  of  the  English  classics,  include  Fenelon,  Vol- 
taire, Marmontel,  Le  Sage,  Moliere,  Racine,  Rousseau, 
Rollin,  Buffon,  Montesquieu,  &c.  His  perusal  of  many  of 
these  must  have  been  very  partial ;  yet  it  is  surprising 
how  just  most  of  his  conceptions  of  their  merits  and  defects 
are.  Many  of  these  criticisms,  especially  of  English 
•writers,  such  as  Dryden,  Locke,  and  Pope,  are  written  in 
a  style  of  acute  and  delicate  discrimination,  and  express 
the  ultimate  opinions  of  his  maturer  years.  Johnson,  as 
might  be  expected  of  a  youth,  is  almost  the  only  one  whom 
he  rates  far  higher  then  than  he  did  afterward. 

There  are  twelve  Letters,  each  somewhat  longer  than  a 
paper  of  the  Spectator,  addressed  to  an  imaginary  "My 
Dear  Sir,"  and  subscribed  by  Philosophus,  Simulator,  Pro- 
teus, Scrutator,  Solomon,  &c.,  and  all  dated  July,  1789. 
They  are  all  on  literary  and  philosophical  subjects,  lively 
and  well  composed.  One  of  them  is  upon  Criticism — by 
no  means  the  best,  but  now  curious  from  its  subject.  It 
explains  the  importance  of  the  art,  and  the  qualities  of 
the  sound  critic. 

Between  November,  1789,  and  March,  1790,  there  are 
thirty-one  essays,  each  about  the  same  length  with  these 
letters.  They  are  full  of  vigorous  thinking,  and  of  power- 
ful writing;  and  a  mere  statement  of  these  subjects  will 
show  his  fertility.  They  are  entitled : — 


1.  On  Human  Happiness. 

2.  On  a  State  of  Nature. 

3.  On  Slavery. 

4.  On  Sincerity  and  Self-Love. 

5.  On  Indolence. 

6.  On  the  Praise  of  former  Ages. 

7.  The  Superiority  of  the  Sexes. 

8.  Of  Man. 

9.  Of  the  Love  of  Fame. 

10.  Of  Fancy. 

11.  On  Jealousy. 

12    Celibacy  and  Marriage. 


13.  Of  Love. 

14.  Of  Man. 

15.  Of  Local  Emotion. 

16.  Ancient  and  Modern  Learning. 

17.  On  the  Fate  of  Genius. 

18.  On  Death. 

19.  Of  a  Town  Life. 

20.  Of  Human  Instinct. 

21.  On  Novel  Reading. 

22.  On  New  Year's  Day. 

23.  On  Beaux-ism. 

24.  On  Beauty. 


EARLY   EXERCISES.  29 


25.  On  the  Poetic  Character. 

2<5.  On  Fortitude. 

27.  The  Use  of  Philosophy. 


28.  The  Use  of  Ridicule. 

29.  Of  Literary  Habits. 

30.  The  Companionable  Virtues. 


31.  Of  the  Foregoing  Essays. 

This  last  discourse  is  as  follows : — "  As  I  think  this  sort 
of  trivial  writing  serves  very  little  purpose  in  the  line  of 
improvement,  I  believe  I  am  now  writing  the  last  essay  of 
this  size  and  style,  that  shall  ever  be  reduced  to  legible 
characters.  Dr.  Johnson  has  spent  papers  in  measuring 
the  syllables  of  blank  verse,  and  surely  I  may  employ  part 
of  one  to  justify  my  own  conduct,  and  satisfy  myself  of  the 
reasons  which  induced  me  to  reduce  to  permanency  the 
vague  and  trifling-  conceptions  of  my  mind  upon  the 
most  trite  topics  of  general  declamation.  It  was,  I  thought, 
and  so  far  I  surely  did  think  justly,  a  very  essential 
point  for  a  young  man  to  acquire  the  habit  of  express- 
ing himself  with  ease  upon  subjects  which  he  is  unavoidably 
[illegible]  one  time  or  another  to  talk  of.  This,  to  be  sure, 
might  perhaps  have  been  attained,  in  a  degree  adequate  to 
all  common  occasions,  without  being  at  the  trouble  to  write 
down  all  that  I  said,  or  might  have  said,  on  them ;  and  as 
the  habit  of  writing  and  speaking  are  not  quite  reciprocal, 
the  plan  of  accustoming  myself  to  speak  a  great  deal  upon 
them  may  perhaps  appear  better  calculated  for  this  pur- 
pose. But  besides  that  I  thus  avoid  many  inaccuracies, 
and  as  I  am  in  Scotland,  many  improprieties,  I  can  spare 
auditors  from  the  fatigue  of  being  the  tools  and  vehicles 
of  iny  experiment,  and  save  myself  from  the  reputation 
of  talkativeness  and  folly.  But  though  the  habit  of 
speaking  easily  be  a  very  valuable  one,  that  of  thinking 
correctly  is  undoubtedly  much  more  so.  These,  too,  can- 
not be  attained  by  mere  mechanical  practice,  and  an 
earlier  exertion  of  these  powers  with  which  every  one  is 
endued  is  absolutely  necessary  to  confirm  it. 

"  The  human  mind,  at  least  mine,  which  is  all  I  have  to 
do  with,  is  such  a  chaotic  confused  business,  such  a  jumble 


30  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

and  hurry  of  ideas,  that  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  follow 
the  train  and  extent  of  our  ideas  upon  any  one  topic, 
without  more  exertion  than  the  conception  of  them  re- 
quired. To  remedy  this,  and  to  fix  the  bounds  of  OUF 
knowledge  and  belief  on  any  subject,  there  is  no  way  but 
to  write  down,  deliberately  and  patiently,  the  notions  which 
first  naturally  present  themselves  on  that  point ;  or  if  we 
refuse  any,  taking  care  it  be  such  as  have  assumed  a  place 
in  our  minds  merely  from  the  influence  of  education  or 
prejudice,  and  not  those  which  the  hand  of  reason  has 
planted,  and  which  has  been  nurtured  by  the  habit  of  re- 
flection. There  is  likewise  a  subordinate  habit,  of  no  little 
importance,  which  is  more  nearly  applicable  to  the  unifor- 
mity and  size  of  these  essays.  Though  the  subjects  of  which 
they  treat  are  very  various  in  point  of  dignity,  it  is  by  no 
means  useless  that  an  equal  share  of  time  and  paper  should 
be  allotted  to  each.  The  common  routine  of  mental  occu- 
pation is  so  much  habituated  to  little  and  trivial  subjects, 
that  it  is  requisite  to  treat  even  more  sublime  topics  in  the 
same  style  and  fashion,  if  we  would  have  them  received. 
As  in  early  ages  a  moral  writer  is  alleged  to  convey  his 
instruction  in  the  form  of  a  fable,  a  parable,  or  a  tale,  we 
have  as  frequent  occasion  to  take  up  ...  [torn.] 

« By  habituating  myself  to  this  sort  of  management,  I 
thought  I  should  never  want  something  to  say  upon  trivial 
subjects, — something  to  the  purpose  on  more  important  ones. 
The  only  other  object  I  had  in  view  was,  perhaps  not  the  least 
important  of  the  whole,  to  attempt  an  imitation  of  the  style 
and  manner  of  the  principal  persons  who  have  exhibited 
their  abilities  in  periodical  and  short  essays.  Dr.  Johnson, 
Addison,  Mackenzie,  and  Steele,  are  the  only  personages  I 
have  attempted  to  ape,  and  these  it  would  be  absurd  in  me 
to  cope  with.  I  have  at  least  this  consolation,  that*  my 
emulation  can  be  called  by  no  means  little.  Of  these  essays 
I  have  little  more  to  say.  I  have  in  truth  said  perhaps 
already  more  than  they  deserve.  Though  for  two  reasons 


EARLY    EXERCISES.  31 

it  was  impossible  to  avoid  their  escape  ;  the  one,  that  it  was 
to  myself  the  contained  apology  is  addressed ;  the  other, 
that  I  should  otherwise  have  been  at  a  loss  how  to  have  filled 
a  sheet,  while  on  the  first  lines  I  declared  that  such  was  its 
limitation,  an  excuse  which  will  often  be  necessary  for 
many  absurdities  in  the  preceding  leaves  of  this  pacquet. 
Simplicity,  and  not  elegance,  is  the  quality  I  have  chiefly 
studied.  In  some  the  language,  in  others  the  sentiment, 
was  principally  attended  to.  In  all,  however,  originality 
of  both  was  as  much  as  possible  endeavoured  to  be  dis- 
played." 

But  the  most  curious  of  these  youthful  compositions  is  a 
paper  of  about  seventy  folio  pages,  entitled  "  Sketch  of  my 
own  character"  dated  23d  November,  1790,  on  the  first  page, 
and  12th  December,  1790,  on  the  last.  It  is  so  singular  a 
piece  of  self  analysis  for  seventeen,  that  I  have  sometimes 
been  inclined  to  put  it  into  the  appendix ;  but  it  is  better 
not.  Though  well  written,  and  full  of  striking  observations, 
it  is  seldom  safe  to  disclose  descriptions  by  a  man  of  him- 
self. Even  when  perfectly  candid,  and  neither  spoiled  by 
the  affectation  of  making  himself  better  nor  worse  than 
he  really  was,  they  are  apt  to  be  misunderstood  ;  and  their 
publication,  especially  near  his  own  day,  is  certain  to  pro- 
voke ridicule. 

Many  younger  men  have  distinguished  themselves  by 
more  surprising  displays  of  early  ability.  But  (as  it  seems 
to  me)  the  peculiarity  of  Jeffrey's  case  is,  that  in  these 
efforts  he  was  not  practising  any  thing  that  depended  on 
positive  rule,  or  could  be  found  laid  formally  down  in  books, 
or  implied  chiefly  the  possession  of  a  good  memory.  His 
science  was  life  and  its  philosophy ;  which  he  prosecuted, 
apparently,  in  order  to  acquire  that  power  which  enables 
its  possessor  to  form  correct  perceptions  of  what  is  true 
in  matters  resolving  into  mere  opinion.  The  merit  of 
these  and  subsequent  exercises,  it  resolves  into  judgment 
and  taste,  as  applied  to  subjects  which  admit  of  no  absolute 


32  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

criterion,  and  on  which  there  is  little  to  be  learned,  except 
from  the  teacher  within.  His  doctrines  and  decisions, 
when  he  is  serious,  and  not  merely  upholding  a  theme,  are 
generally  just ;  and  even  when  they  are  wrong,  the  delicacy 
of  the  discrimination,  the  richness  of  the  views,  and  the 
animation  of  the  style,  are  indisputable.  The  wonder  is 
how  such  ideas  got  into  so  young  a  head,  or  such  sentences 
into  so  untaught  a  pen. 

It  was  about  this  time  (1790  or  1791)  that  he  had  the 
honour  of  assisting  to  carry  the  biographer  of  Johnson,  in 
a  state  of  great  intoxication,  to  bed.  For  this  he  was 
rewarded  next  morning  by  Mr.  Boswell,  who  had  learned 
who  his  bearers  had  been,  clapping  his  head,  and  telling 
him  that  he  was  a  very  promising  lad,  and  that  "if  you  go  on 
as  you've  begun,  you  may  live  to  be  a  Bozzy  yourself  yet." 

He  left  Edinburgh  for  Oxford  towards  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember, 1791,  with  his  father,  his  brother,  and  Mr.  Napier, 
who-  afterward  married  his  oldest  sister.  They  loitered 
and  visited  so  much  that  they  took  a  fortnight  to  reach 
their  destination.  He  had  been  at  Oxford  before,  but 
only  passing  through  it ;  and  after  being  left  there,  felt  a 
pang  on  his  first  entire  loneliness.  It  may  seem  to  be 
rather  an  unreasonable  pang  for  a  youth  going  to  so 
bright  a  country  as  England,  and  to  a  place  with  so  many 
attractions  as  Oxford.  But  with  whatever  cordiality  Jef- 
frey entered  into  social  scenes,  it  was  always  on  affection 
that  his  real  happiness  was  dependent.  He  ever  clung  to 
hearts.  As  soon  as  any  excitement  that  kept  him  up  was 
over,  his  spirit,  though  strong,  and  his  disposition,  though 
sprightly,  depended  on  the  presence  of  old  familiar  friends. 
He  scarcely  ever  took  even  a  professional  journey  of  a  day 
or  two  alone  without  helplessness  and  discomfort.  When  left 
to  himself,  therefore,  for  the  first  time,  at  a  distance  from 
home,  it  was  according  to  his  nature  that  he  should  feel  a 
lowness  which  gave  an  unfavourable  inclination,  from  the 
very  first,  to  his.  Oxford  impressions. 


OXFORD.  33 

This  place  was  not  then  what  it  is  now.  Jeffrey  went 
there  eager  for  improvement,  by  literary  energy ;  and  as 
he  knew  it  only  by  the  echo  of  its  fame,  he  thought  of 
it  as  purely  a  great  seat  of  learning  and  of  education,  and  of 
all  the  appropriate  habits.  No  wonder  that,  with  such  ideas, 
he  was  shocked  on  finding  some  things  in  the  reality  of  the 
place  different  from  what  he  had  expected.  This  was  es- 
pecially the  case  at  Queen's,  the  college  he  entered,  which 
was  then  not  distinguished  by  study  and  propriety  alone. 

However,  he  neither  gave  his  new  comrades  nor  his  own 
candour  a  very  long  trial.  In  a  letter  to  the  late  Mr. 
Robertson,  of  Inches,  one  of  his  Glasgow  companions, 
dated  23d  October,  1791,  being  within  a  week  of  his  ar- 
rival, he>  describes  his  fellow  students  as  a  set  of  "pedants, 
coxcombs,  and  strangers" — the  last  quality,  no  doubt,  being 
the  worst  in  his  sight.  On  the  19th  he  wrote  to  his  sis- 
ter : — "  Dear  Mary,  Shut  up  alone  in  my  melancholy  apart- 
ment,— a  hundred  miles  at  least  distant  from  all  those  with 
whom  I  have  been  accustomed  to  live, — surrounded  by 
chapels,  and  libraries,  and  halls,  with  Hardly  an  acquaint- 
ance to  speak  to,  and  not  a  friend  to  confide  in, — what  do 
I  feel — what  shall  I  write  ?  If  my  writing  must  be  the  ex- 
pression of  my  sensation,  I  must  speak  only  of  regret,  and 
write  only  an  account  of  my  melancholy.  But  I  feel  tow 
keenly  the  pain  of  such  a  sensation,  to  think  of  communi- 
cating a  share  of  it  through  the  sympathy  of  those  I  lovo. 
Fancy  yourself  in  my  place, — but  two  days  parted  from  my 
father  and  brother, — with  the  prospect  of  many  irksome 
and  weary  days  before  I  shall  meet  them  again — ignorant 
of  the  forms  and  duties  of  my  new  situation,  diffident  of 
my  own  proficiency,  and  apprehensive  of  destroying  my 
own  happiness  by  disappointing  the  expectations  of  my 
friends — fancy  yourself  thus,  and  I  think  you  will  be  able 
to  comprehend  my  situation.  But  it  is  cruel  to  make  you 
share  in  it  even  in  fancy.  I  should  have  told  you  I  was 

happy,  and  made  you  so,  in  the  belief  of  ray  report ;  but 
C 


84  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

let  us  pass  from  this.  It  ia  a  noble  thing  to  be  inde- 
pendent— to  have  totally  the  management  and  direction 
of 'one's  person  and  conduct;  and  this  is  what  I  enjoy 
here,  (did  I  not  always  so  ?)  for  except  being  obliged  to 
attend  prayers  at  seven  every  morning,  and  at  five  every 
evening — except  that,  I  say,  and  the  necessity  of  coming 
to  the  common  hall  at  three  to  eat  my  dinner,  and  to  all 
the  lectures  of  whatever  denomination  at  some  other  hours 
— I  have  the  absolute  and  uncontrolled  disposal  of  myself 
in  my  own  hands.  I  am  dependent  upon  nobody  to  boil 
my  kettle  or  mend  mj  fire.  Not  I.  I  am  alone  in  my 
rooms — for  you  must  know  I  have  no  less  than  three — and 
need  not  permit  a  single  soul  to  come  into  them  except 
when  I  please.  But  you  wish  to  know  perhaps  how  long 
I  have  enjoyed  this  monarchy.  On  Wednesday  morning 
my  father,  John,  and  Napier  departed  for  Buxton,  and 
left  me  here  alone  and  melancholy  in  a  strange  land.  The 
rooms  I  had  chosen  could  not  be  ready  for  me  before 
night,  and  I  sauntered  about  from  street  to  street,  and 
from  college  to  college.  I  would  not  recall  the  sensations 
of  that  morning,  were  not  those  of  the  present  hour  too 
similar  to  let  me  forget  them.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  exposed 
to  starve  upon  a  desert  island ;  as  if  the  hour  of  my  death 
were  at  hand,  and  an  age  of  torture  ready  to  follow  it.  I 
came  to  dinner  at  the  common  hall — got  a  little  acquainted 
with  one  or  two  of  the  students,  and  kept  in  their  company, 
for  I  was  afraid  of  solitude,  till  I  retired  to  sleep.  Why 
must  I  always  dream  that  I  am  in  Edinburgh  ?  The  un- 
packing of  my  trunk  rendered  me  nearly  mad.  I  cannot 
yet  bear  to  look  into  any  of  my  writings.  I  have  not  now 
one  glimpse  of  my  accustomed  genius  nor  fancy.  Oh !  my 
dear,  retired,  adored  little  window ;  I  swear  I  would  forfeit 
all  hopes  and  pretensions,  to  be  restored  once  more  to  it, 
and  to  you,  could  I  do  it  with  honour  and  with  the  applause 
of  others.  But  this  is  almost  mad  too,  I  think.  I  came  to 
study  law — and  I -must  study  Latin,  and  Greek,  and  Rhe- 


OXFOKD.  35 

toric,  and  Grammar,  and  Ethics,  and  Logic,  and  Chemistry, 
and  Anatomy,  and  Astronomy — and  Law  afterward,  if  I 
please — that  is,  I  must  attend  lectures  upon  all  these  sub- 
jects, if  there  be  any,  and  pass  examinations  in  them  by- 
and-by.  By  heaven,  I  am  serious,  and  they  will  allow 
neither  absurdity  nor  inconvenience  in  the  practice." 

Six  weeks  after  this  he  tells  his  cousin,  (and  a  great 
favourite,  Miss  Crockat,  afterward  Mrs.  Murray) — "  This 
place  has  no  latent  charms.  A  scrutiny  of  six  weeks  has 
not  increased  my  attachment.  It  has,  however,  worn  off 
my  disgust ;  and  knowing  that  neither  the  place,  nor  its 
inhabitants,  nor  their  manners,  can  be  changed  by  my  dis- 
pleasure, I  have  resolved  to  withdraw  that  displeasure, 
•which  only  tortured  myself,  and  to  fancy  that  this  is  the 
seat  of  elegance,  and  virtue,  and  science.  But  I  have 
made  a  vow  not  to  speak  again  upon  the  subject." 

Even  the  social  habits  of  his  new  friends  were  unsatis- 
factory. "  My  dear  Miss,  (his  sister  Mary,  6th  March, 
1792,)  don't  you  think  it  a  pity,  when  the  moon  shines  in 
all  the  majesty  of  silence — when  every  breeze  is  sunk  to 
rest — and  every  star  is  glowing  on  high — don't  you  think 
it  a  pity  to  waste  such  an  hour  as  this — an  hour  Which  so 
seldom  shines  upon  us  here — in  reading  such  infernal  unin- 
teresting stuff,  as  is  almost  too  bad  for  the  cloudiest  day  in 
November  ?  I  think  so,  upon  my  soul ;  and,  therefore,  after 
trying  two  or  three  pages,  and  finding  I  did  not  understand 
one  syllable,  I  laid  aside  Heineccius,  half  in  triumph  and 
half  in  despair,  set  the  candlestick  a-top  of  him,  and  took 
up  my  pen  to  converse  with  you.  I  wish  it  were  a  speak- 
ing-trumpet for  your  sake." 

"  Is  there  any  thing,  do  you  think,  Cara,  so  melancholy 
as  a  company  of  young  men  without  any  feeling,  vivacity, 
or  passion  ?  We  must  not  expect,  here,  that  warmth  and 
tenderness  of  soul  which  is  to  delight  and  engage  us ;  but 
let  us  at  least  have  some  life,  some  laughter,  some  imper- 
tinence, wit,  politeness,  pedantry,  .prejudices — something 


3G  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

to  supply  the  place  of  interest  and  sensation.  But  these 
blank  parties !  oh !  the  quintessence  of  insipidity.  The 
conversation  dying  from  lip  to  lip — every  countenance 
lengthening  and  obscuring  in.  the  shade  of  mutual  lassi- 
tude— the  stifled  yawn  contending  with  the  affected  smile 
upon  every  cheek,  and  the  languor  and  stupidity  of  the 
party  gathering  and  thickening  every  instant  by  the  mu- 
tual contagion  of  embarrassment  and  disgust.  For  when 
you  enter  into  a  set  of  this  kind,  you  are  robbed  of  your 
electricity  in  an  instant,  and  by  a  very  rapid  process  are 
cooled  down  to  the  state  of  the  surrounding  bodies.  In  the 
name  of  heaven,  what  do  such  beings  conceive  to  be  the 
order  and  use  of  society  ?  To  them  it  is  no  source  of  en- 
joyment ;  and  there  cannot  be  a  more  complete  abuse  of  • 
time,  wine,  and  fruit."  "This  law  is  a  vile  work.  I  wish  I 
had  been  bred  a  piper.  For  these  two  months  I  have  con- 
ceived nothing  distinctly.  For  all  that  time  I  have  had  a 
continual  vision  of  I  know  not  what  beautiful  and  sublime 
things  floating  and  glittering  before  my  eyes.  I  at  first 
thought  it  was  a  fit  of  poetry ;  but  upon  trial  I  could  find 
neither  words  nor  images.  When  I  offered  to  lay  hold 
upon  any  of  its  beauties,  the  splendid  show  vanished  and 
grew  confused,  like  the  picture  of  the  moon  you  may  have 
tried  to  scoop  up  out  of  the  water.  I  am  much  pleased 
with  your  late  letters;  though  there  is  still  a  remnant 
of  what  I  found  fault  with  in  your  style.  You  must  either 
be  merry,  or  melancholy,  or  angry,  or  envious,  when  you 
write  again.  You  have  not  the  ease  of  a  style  which  is 
merely  calm  or  indifferent.  I  avoid  it  as  much  as  possible." 

"  Except  praying  and  drinking,  I  see  nothing  else  that 
it  is  possible  to  acquire  in  this  place."  (To  Mr.  Robert- 
Bon.) 

After  only  seven  months'  residence  he  had  a  prospect  of 
escaping,  and  says  to  his  sister,  (22d  April,  1792,)  "  Our 
long  vacation  commences  about  the  end  of  June,  and  I 
suppose  my  residence  at  Oxford  will  finally  conclude  at  that 


OXFORD.  37 

period.  But  for  Scotland — Scotland  !  I  have  not  the  same 
assurance  of  visiting  it  at  that  time.  Yet  I  have  never 
heard  any  thing,  even  a  hint,  to  the  contrary  from  my 
father,  whose  prohibition  alone  can  disappoint  me.  Ah  ! 
Cara  !  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  I  languish  to  return  ; 
with  what  visions  of  happiness  my  fancy  deludes  me  when 
I  permit  it  to  feign  myself  practising  at  the  Scotch  Bar 
with  plentiful  success  !  I  believe  it  is  the  prospect  of  the 
expense  I  must  occasion  by  proceeding  on  my  present  line, 
and  the  uncertainty  of  my  success,  that  renders  my  situa- 
tion so  unpleasing.  I  have  an  idea  that  I  am  happier  than 
most  people  I  see  here ;  yet  I  am  the  only  one  that  thinks 
of  complaining  of  his  situation,  or  who  does  not  appear 
perfectly  satisfied  with  himself." 

At  last,  in  June,  1792,  his  short  connection  with  Oxford 
closed,  and  its  end  was  thus  recorded  by  himself.  His 
admission  had  been  attested  by  the  following  certificate,  or 
whatever  else  it  is  called.  "  Oxonise,  Octobris  17mo,  Anno 
Domini  1791.  Quo  die  comparuit  coram  me  Franciscus 
Jeffrey,  e  Coll.  Reg.  Arm.,  Fit,  et  subscripsit  Articulis 
Fidei  et  Religionis ;  et  juramentum  suscepit  de  agnoscenda 
suprema  regise  majestatis  potestate ;  et  de  observandis 
statutis,  privilegeiis,  et  consuetudinibus  hujus  universatis. 
Sam.  Dennis,  pro  Vice  Can."  Below  which  the  said  Fran- 
ciscus writes,  "  Hanc  universitatem,  tsedio  miserrime  affec- 
tus,  tandem  hilaris  reliqui,  Ter.  Kal.  Jul.  1792 ;  meque 
hisce  obligationibus  privilegiisque  subduxi.  F.  Jeffrey." 
And  on  the  other  side  of  the  parchment  he  sets  down  a  list 
of  twenty-seven  of  his  acquaintances  and  a  tutor,  with  a 
character,  in  one  line  of  each.  The  tutor  is  soon  disposed 
of.  "Pedant,"  is  all  he  gets.  Such  a  one  is  "honest, 
plain,  sensible;"  one  "polite,  lazy,  quick,  dissipated;" 
one  "merry,  good-natured,  noisy,  foolish;"  one  "stiff, 
ignorant,  silent,  passive,  foolish;"  and  so  he  goes  on 
through  the  whole  twenty-seven ;  never,  but  in  one  in- 
stance, all  complimentary.  This  instance  is- in  the  case  of 


38  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Maton,  who  I  understand  to  have  been  his  future  friend, 
the  late  Dr.  Maton,  described  "  philosopher,"  as  he  really 
was. 

In  spite  of  the  prevailing  dissipation  and  idleness,  ho 
himself  was  a  diligent  student  in  his  own  way.  Sir  John 
Stoddart,  who  knew  him  there,  says  that  though  "  not  a 
reading  man,  he  must  have  devoted  much  time  to  litera- 
ture in  general ;  for  his  conversation,  though  always  gay 
and  lively,  evinced  a  large  store  of  information."  Accord- 
ingly, he  himself  used  to  acknowledge,  that  though,  on 
the  whole,  disappointed  with  Oxford,  his  time  there  had 
not  been  lost  totally.  This  indeed  is  implied  in  the  fact, 
that  during  these  nine  months,  he  wrote  a  great  many 
papers,  of  which  eighteen  happen  to  have  been  preserved. 

Some  of  them  are  short  and  immaterial,  such  as  a  trans- 
lation of  the  life  of  Agricola,  and  another  sermon ;  which 
last  seems  to  be  a  species  of  composition  rather  seductive 
to  literary  laymen.  His  are  about  as  good  as  any  sermons 
can  be  which  are  got  up  as  mere  rhetorical  exercises. 
Several  of  them  were  preached,  with  considerable  effect ; 
particularly  by  Mr.  Marshall,  whose  elocution  did  justice 
to  the  author's  style,  and  by  a  late  respectable  minister  of 
our  Established  Church,  who  had  been  a  tutor  at  Herbert- 
shire,  and  imposed  some  of  them  on  his  congregation  so 
lately  as  1825. 

Among  the  longer  papers,  there  is  one  on  Beauty ;  which 
is  interesting,  as  the  germ  of  his  treatise  on  that  subject, 
in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  many  years  afterward.  It 
is  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  him  and  Eugenius,  in 
which  the  two  speakers  discuss  the  nature  of  the  qualities 
by  which  objects  are  recommended  to  taste.  The  whole 
theories  of  association,  of  utility,  of  properties  inherent  in 
the  objects,  or  of  its  all  resolving  into  the  state  of  the  ob- 
server's own  mind,  &c.,  are  discussed  with  ability  and  liveli- 
ness. He  inclines  to  the  association  principle,  of  which 
the  following  is  his  first  illustration : — "  For  what  is  it, 


.      OXFORD    EXERCISES.  39 

continued  I,  stopping  and  stretching  out  my  arm,  as  I 
pointed  to  the  landscape  around  us, — What  else  is  it,  do 
you  think,  Eugenius,  that  enables  this  retired  valley,  that 
peaceful  stream,  or  these  velvet  hills,  to  warm  and  trans- 
port my  bosom  with  the  satisfaction  in  which  it  now  over- 
flows— what  is  it  but  the  talisman,  and  the  proof  it  affords 
of  the  happiness  and  security  of  so  many  of  my  brethren 
as  are  employed  and  supported,  and  made  happy,  in  the 
cultivation  and  produce  thereof.  See  !  added  I  eagerly,  and 
grasped  his  arm  with  violence — see  that  little,  dim,  distant 
light,  which  shines  like  a  setting  star  on  the  horizon ;  is 
there  any  thing  in  the  whole  circle  and  series  of  objects 
with  which  we  are  surrounded  on  every  side,  that  pleases 
and  affects  you  more  than  its  soft  and  tranquil  light, — than 
the  long  line  of  trembling  fire  with  which  it  has  crossed  the 
lake  at  the  bottom  of  the  cliff  under  which  it  burns  ?  And 
what  is  it  that  yields  this  simple  object  so  high  a  power  of 
pleasing,  but  that  secret  and  mysterious  association  by 
which  it  represents  to  us  the  calmness  and  rustic  simplicity 
of  the  inhabitants  of  that  cottage ;  by  which  we  are  trans- 
ported within  its  walls,  and  made  to  see  and  to  observe  the 
whole  economy  and  occupation  of  the  household." 

A  paper  on  the  poetry  of  Hayley  and  Miss  Seward  is 
an  anticipation,  both  in  style  and  opinion,  of  one  of  his 
future  reviews.  Another,  without  a  title,  but  which,  in  its 
matter,  appears  to  be  on  the  Philosophy  of  Happiness, 
though  able,  is  vague,  for  which  he  thus  censures  himself :  « I 
cannot  write  either  with  the  ease  or  the  rapidity  with  which 
some  time  ago  I  used  to  astonish  myself.  I  cannot  think 
it  a  consequence  of  this,  that  I  should  write  prolixly  and 
diffusely.  This  I  meant  to  fill  a  sheet ;  it  is,  as  usual,  very 
unequal  in  style  ;  in  some  passages  ridiculously  affected, 
in  others  disgustingly  careless.  The  argument  is  not  good, 
nor  the  aTrangements  luminously  applied.  My  meaning  is 
here,  however,  I  believe — scattered  and  imperfect,  to  be 
sure,  but  I  think  it  is  here." 


40  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Another  article,  without  a  title,  begins  thus  : — "  All  that 
regards  man  is  interesting  to  me.  -Every  thing  which  ex- 
plains his  character  and  his  contradictions ;  every  investi- 
gation that  promises  to  illustrate  the  phenomena  which  he 
unfolds,  I  pursue  and  explore  with  insatiable  eagernesa 
and  affection."  Then  follows  what  appears  to  be  a  dis- 
course on  the  sources  and  correctives  of  human  wickedness, 
which,  as  usual,  is  not  done  justice  to  by  the  author  him- 
self;— "Opus  deductum ;  the  work  is  brought  to  a  con- 
clusion, has  a  full  and  uniform  connection,  and  is  the 
sincere  advocate  of  my  own  sentiments.  This  is  all  that 
can  be  said  in  its  favour.  The  enumeration  is  defectiv0 
throughout,  the  style  loose,  and,  in  some  passages,  intole- 
rably diffuse.  Besides,  the  whole  performance  is  more 
crowded  with  commonplace,  than  a  subject  on  which  I  was 
so  sincere,  should  have  admitted." 

Along  "Speech  on  the  slave,  on  the  model  of  Demos- 
thenes" is,  of  course,  not  the  least  like  Demosthenes,  nor 
even  a  speech — it  is  a  declamatory  essay.  I  only  mention 
it  for  the  sake  of  the  description  of  the  style  of  the  model 
which  closes  the  imitation.  "  On  the  model  of  Demosthe- 
nes !  admirably  executed  !  I  wonder  which  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  that  orator  I  had  it  in  my  mind  to  imitate, 
while  I  covered  these  pages.  There  can  hardly  be  any 
thing  more  unlike  the  style,  though  at  times  it  is  evident  I 
have  been  jumping  at  that  too ;  and  the  solicitude  with 
which  I  have  avoided  special  narratives  and  individual 
illustration,  is  still  more  inconsistent  with  the  instant  pecu- 
liarity of  that  model.  Now  I  knew  all  this  when  I  [illegi- 
ble] my  intention  of  imitation.  What  was  it,  then,  that  I 
designed  to  imitate  ?  That  perspicuity  and  simplicity  of 
arrangement,  that  direct  and  unremitting  tendency  to  the 
single  object  of  the  discourse,  that  naked  and  undisguised 
sincerity  of  sentiment,  that  perpetual  recurrence  to  ac- 
knowledged and  important  positions,  which  are  certainly 
the  most  intrinsic  and  infallible  marks  of  the  orations  of 


OXFORD   EXERCISES.  41 

Demosthenes.  No  intermission  of  argument,  no  digressive 
embellishment,  no  ostentatious  collocation  of  parts,  no  arti- 
ficial introduction,  no  rhetorical  transition  is  to  be  found 
in  the  pages  of  this  accomplished  and  animated  orator.  He 
falls  from  argument  to  argument  with  the  most  direct  and 
unaffected  simplicity ;  and  at  every  transition  from  argu- 
ment to  exhortation,  and  from  exhortation  to  reproach,  he 
holds  the  one  object  of  his  discourse  fully  in  his  own  eyes, 
and  in  those  of  his  auditors.  This  I  say  by  way  of  self- 
defence,  that  I  may  not  be  thought  to  have  mistaken  the 
character  of  this  writer,  whom  my  imitation  evinces  me  to 
have  understood  so  ill.  In  one  respect  it  is  similar  to  my 
model ; — it  is  sincere,  and  has  not  declined  any  part  of  the 
argument  that  occurred.  Towards  the  end  it  is  most  defec- 
tive ;  the  turgid  breaking  in  upon  me  unawares.  I  never 
read  ten  pages  on  the  question  in  my  life.  I  pretend, 
therefore,  that  this  is  original."  (14th  April,  1792.) 

A  full  and  able  paper,  without  a  title,  contains  a  spirited 
argument  against  the  notion  of  ascribing  every  odd  occur- 
rence to  Divine  interposition. 

These  are  not  the  fruits  of  idleness. 

But  there  was  one  accomplishment  of  which  he  was  par- 
ticularly ambitious,  but  failed  to  attain.  He  left  home 
with  the  dialect  and  the  accent  of  Scotland  strong  upon  his 
lips ;  and,  always  contemplating  the  probability  of  public 
speaking  being  his  vocation,  he  was  bent  upon  purifying 
himself  of  the  national  inconvenience.  "  You  ask  me  (says 
he  to  Mr.  Robertson)  to  drop  you  some  English  ideas.  My 
dear  fellow,  I  am  as  much,  nay  more  a  Scotchman  than  I 
was  while  an  inhabitant  of  Scotland.  My  opinions,  ideas, 
prejudices,  and  systems  are  all  Scotch.  The  only  part  of 
a  Scotchman  I  mean  to  abandon  is  the  language ;  and  lan- 
guage is  all  I  expect  to  learn  in  England." 

He  certainly  succeeded  in  the  abandonment  of  his  ha- 
bitual Scotch.  He  returned,  in  this  respect,  a  conspicuously 
altered  lad.  The  change  was  so  sudden  and  so  complete, 

4* 


42  LIFE   OF  -LORD   JEFFREY. 

that  it  excited  the  surprise  of  his  friends,  and  furnished 
others  with  ridicule  for  many  years.  But  he  was  by  no 
means  so  successful  in  acquiring  an  English  voice.  With 
an  ear  which,  though  not  alert  in  musical  perception,  was 
delicate  enough  to  feel  every  variation  of  speech  ;  what  he 
picked  up  was  a  high-keyed  accent,  and  a  sharp  pronuncia- 
tion. Then  the  extreme  rapidity  of  his  utterance,  and  the 
smartness  of  some  of  his  notes,  gave  his  delivery  an  air  of 
affectation,  to  which  some  were  only  reconciled  by  habit 
and  respect.  The  result,  on  the  whole,  was  exactly  as  de- 
scribed by  his  friend,  the  late  Lord  Holland,  who  said  that 
though  Jeffrey  "  had  lost  the  broad  Scotch  at  Oxford,  he 
had  only  gained  the  narrow  English."  However,  the  pe- 
culiarity wore  a  good  deal  off,  and  his  friends  came  rather 
to  like  what  remained  of  it,  because  it  marked  his  individu- 
ality, and  it  never  lessened  the  partiality  with  which  his 
countrymen  hailed  all  his  public  appearances.  Still,  as  the 
acquisition  of  a  pure  English  accent  by  a  full-grown  Scotch- 
man, which  implies  the  total  loss  of  his  Scotch,  is  fortu- 
nately impossible,  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had 
merely  got  some  of  the  grosser  matter  rubbed  off  his  ver- 
nacular tongue,  and  left  himself,  unencumbered  both  by  it 
and  by  unattainable  English,  to  his  own  respectable  Scotch, 
refined  by  literature  and  good  society,  and  used  plainly 
and  naturally,  without  shame,  and  without  affected  exagge- 
ration. 

But  though  the  tones  and  the  words  of  Scotland  ceased 
to  be  heard  in  his  ordinary  speech,  they  were  never  oblite- 
rated from  his  memory.  He  could  speak  Scotch,  when  he 
choose,  as  correctly  as  when  the  Doric  of  the  Lawnmarket 
of  Edinburgh  had  only  been  improved  by  that  of  Rotten- 
row  of  Glasgow ;  and  had  a  most  familiar  acquaintance 
with  the  vocabulary  of  his  country.  Indeed,  there  was  a 
convenience  and  respectability  in  the  power  of  speaking 
and  of  thinking  Scotch  at  that  period,  which  later  circum- 
stances have  impaired.  It  was  habitual  with  persons  of 


LEAVES   OXFORD.  43 

rank,  education,  and  fashion,  with  eloquent  preachers,  dig- 
nified judges,  and  graceful  women  ;  from  all  of  whose  lips 
it  flowed  without  the  reality,  or  the  idea  of  vulgarity.  Our 
mere  speech  was  doomed  to  recede,  to  a  certain  extent,  be- 
fore the  foreign  wave,  and  it  was  natural  for  a  young  man 
to  anticipate  what  was  coming.  But  our  native  literature 
was  better  fixed ;  and  Jeffrey  knew  it,  and  enjoyed  it.  He 
was  familiar  with  the  writers  in  that  classic  Scotch,  of 
which  much  is  good  old  English,  from  Gavin  Douglas  to 
Burns.  He  saw  the  genius  of  Scott,  and  Wilson,  and 
Hogg,  and  Gait,  and  others,  elicited  by  the  rich  mines  of 
latent  character  and  history  with  which  their  country 
abounds,  and  devoted  to  the  elucidation  of  the  scenes  which 
awakened  it ;  and,  of  all  their  admirers,  there  was  not  one 
who  rejoiced  more,  or  on  better  grounds,  in  the  Scotch 
qualities  that  constitute  the  originality  and  the  vivid  force 
of  their  writings.  He  felt  the  power  of  the  beautiful  lan- 
guage which  they  employed,  and  were  inspired  by ;  and,  as 
many  of  his  subsequent  criticisms  attest,  was  most  anxious 
for  the  preservation  of  a  literature  so  peculiar  and  so  pic- 
turesque. 

He  left  Oxford  on  the  5th  of  July,  1792,  having  told 
Miss  Crockat  the  day  before,  "  To-morrow  I  take  off  my 
gown ;  to-morrow  I  resign  the  honours  of  my  academical 
character,  and  bear  myself  for  ever  from  these  venerable 
towers."  His  absence  had  diminished  even  the  small 
number  of  his  former  companions  ;  while  his  increased  age, 
and  greater  fitness  for  society,  aggravated  the  solitude  to 
which  he  found  that  he  had  returned.  He  used  to  mention 
this  as  the  loneliest  period  of  his  life.  But  its  loneliness 
did  him  no  harm.  His  own  family  supplied  him  with  ob- 
jects enough  of  affection ;  and  a  thoughtful  mind  like  his  was 
not  the  worse  for  being  concentrated  on  its  own  pursuits. 

He  was  now  nineteen,  and  his  ideas  about  what  he  was 
to  do  for  subsistence  or  for  reputation  began  to  settle  into 
something  definite.  Some  passages  in  his  letters  show  that 


44  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

he  had  occasional  visions  of  living  by  literature,  and  chiefly 
by  poetry.  But  these  were  only  the  casual  longings  of 
taste,  not  the  prevailing  views  of  his  practical  judgment, 
lie  was  at  one  time  in  a  great  fright  lest  he  should  have 
been  made  a  merchant.  On  the  30th  of  April,  1790,  he 
wrote  a  sheet  of  observations  "  On  a  mercantile  life,"  not 
at  all  favourable  to  its  tendencies  on  happiness  or  the 
mind,  and  ends  by  this  postscript:  "  P.S. — The  former  part 
of  these  observations  was  written  while  I  was  myself  a  little 
apprehensive  of  being  made  an  example  of  their  veracity. 
They  are  consequently  written  with  the  greatest  feeling. 
From  the  place  where  the  ink  first  varies,  I  wrote  merely 
to  give  a  sort  of  conclusion  to  my  thoughts ;  and  that  I 
might  be  more  ready,  should  I  ever  again  have  occasion  to 
consider  them  as  a  matter  of  personal  concern."  But  his 
apprehensions  do  not  seem  to  have  ever  been  revived  ;  pro- 
bably because  his  brother  John  soon  joined  a  paternal 
uncle,  a  merchant  in  Boston,  in  America,  in  the  business 
which  had  apparently  excited  them.*  He  would  have  made 
a  miserable  merchant ;  for  he  had  a  horror  of  risk  and 
a  strong  sense  of  the  value  of  pecuniary  prudence.  With 
a  liberality  of  disposition,'  which  was  evinced  by  muni- 
ficent charity,  he  had  no  spirit  of  adventure,  and  there- 
fore one  shilling  certain  had  charms  for  him  which  twenty 
shillings  doubtful  could  not  impart.  He  would  have  made 
himself  or  his  partners  crazy  by  perpetually  demonstrating, 
in  the 'midst  of  their  most  solid  prosperity,  that  they  were 
all  bankrupt,  or  must  speedily  become  so. 

The  law,  and  in  Edinburgh,  was  plainly  his  destiny.  He 
thought  frequently  of  the  English  bar ;  but  his  views  in 
that  direction  were  superseded  by  the  strong  considerations 
that  decided  his  friends.  His  father  could  not  have  af- 
forded the  expense  of  his  preparation  for  the  English  bar ; 


*  His  uncle,  the  brother  of  Jeffrey's  father,  had  married  a  sister  of 
John  Wilkes. 


EDINBURGH   COLLEGE.  45 

and  still  less  of  that  costly  abeyance  by  which,  after  being 
called  to  it,  practice  must  be  waited  for.  The  bar  of  hia 
own  country  was  cheaper,  less  precarious,  and  less  irre- 
coverable from,  if  it  should  fail ;  and  a  little  practice  might 
be  expected  from  some  of  his  own  connections.  Above  all, 
to  the  imagination  of  a  father  in  the  position  of  Mr.  Jeffrey 
senior,  the  idea  of  his  son  being  a  distinguished  counsel  in 
the  Supreme  Court,  and  possibly  occupying  at  last  a  seat 
on  its  bench,  was  perhaps  the  loftiest  conception  of  fa- 
mily grandeur  it  could  form.  He  was  thus  set  into  the 
stream  of  the  Scotch  bar  naturally  and  irresistibly,  and 
his  preparations  were  made  accordingly. 

During  the  winter  session  of  1792-3,  he  again  attended 
the  Scotch  Law  lectures  of  Professor  Hume,  those  of  Pro- 
fessor Wyld  on  the  Civil  Law,  and  those  of  Professor  Alex- 
ander Tytler  on  History.  He  groaned  under  what  he  held 
to  be  Hume's  elaborate  dulness.  His  "notes  taken  from'' 
Tytler,  that  is,  his  transfusion  of  the  lectures  into  his  own 
thoughts,  occupy  four  hundred  and  thirty-six  folio  pages 
of  his  writing,  which  would  be  at  least  double  in  ordinary 
manuscript.  There  is  another  course  from  which  it  is 
almost  inconceivable  that  he  should  have  been  kept,  that 
of  Moral  Philosophy  by  Dugald  Stewart.  This  most  emi- 
nent person  has  two  reputations,  one  as  an  author,  and 
one  as  a  lecturer.  Many  who  knew  him  only  as  a  philo- 
sophical writer,  venerate  him  profoundly,  both  for  his  phi- 
losophy and  for  the  dignified  beauty  of  his  style.  But  this 
idolatry  is  not  universal.  There  are  some  who,  admitting 
his  occasional  felicity  both  of  thought  and  of  composition, 
deem  him,  on  the  whole,  vague  and  heavy.  But  I  am  not 
aware  that  there  has  ever  been  any  difference  of  opinion 
with  respect  to  his  unsurpassed  excellence  as  a  moral 
teacher.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  didactic  orators. 
Mackintosh  said,  truly,  that  the  peculiar  glory  of  Stewart's 
eloquence  consisted  in  its  having  "breathed  the  love  of  vir- 
tue into  whole  generations  of  pupils."  He  was  the  great 


46  LIFE   OP  LORD  JEFFREY. 

inspirer  of  young  men.  Yet  I  can  discover  no  evidence 
that  Jeffrey  was  a  pupil  in  this,  to  him,  congenial  class, 
and  many  circumstances  satisfy  me  that  he  was  not.  Nor 
can  I  doubt  why.  Stewart,  though  shrinking  from  every 
approach  to  active  faction,  was  known  to  hold  liberal  poli- 
tical opinions ;  and  his  class  door,  I  believe,  was  shut  to 
Jeffrey  by  the  same  prejudice  that  had  shut  John  Millar's. 

In  a  letter  to  his  brother  in  America,  of  the  1st  of  De- 
cember, 1792,  he  says,  "  I  cannot  think  of  any  material 
alteration  that  has  taken  place  among  your  friends  since 
you  left  them,  except  it  be  a  most  laudable  reformation 
that  has  been  wrought  in  my  person  within,  this  last  week ; 
whereby,  from  a  lounging,  idling,  unhopeful  kind  of  fellow, 
I  have  become  a  most  persevering  and  indefatigable  stu- 
dent, and  have  no  doubt  of  turning  out  President  of  the 
Court  of  Session,  or  chief  macer  at  the  least ;  for  I  have 
brought  back  my  views  in  some  degree  to  the  Scotch  bar, 
and  half  determined  to  leave  the  English  dignities  to  their 
own  disposal." 

The  steadiest  affection  always  subsisted  between  these 
brothers,  although  in  nothing,  except  their  mutual  regard, 
was  there  any  resemblance  between  them.  John. continued 
in  America,  but  not  without  visits  home,  till  about  1807. 
His  commercial  concerns  did  not  end  very  profitably,  and 
some  other  misfortunes,  operating  upon  feeble  health, 
clouded  his  latter  years.  With  a  dry  manner,  he  was  a 
sensible  and  intelligent  man,  much  beloved  by  the  few  he 
cared  to  cultivate. 

On  the  llth  of  December,  1792,  Jeffrey  entered  the 
Speculative  Society.  Insignificant  as  this  may  seem,  it 
did  more  for  him  than  any  other  event  in  the  whole  course 
of  his  education.  Literary  and  scientific,  and  especially 
debating  societies  have  long  existed  in  connection  with  the 
College  of  Edinburgh,  as  they  have  occasionally  in  all  the 
other  colleges  in  Scotland ;  and  so  beneficial  are  these 
institutions,  when  properly  used,  so  encouraging  both  for 


SPECULATIVE   SOCIETY.  47 

study  and  for  discussion,  and  so  well-timed  in  reference  to 
the  condition  of  young  minds,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  under- 
stand how  any  college  can  succeed  without  them.  The  Spe- 
culative had  been  instituted  in  1764,  and  had  raised  itself 
ahove  all  similar  establishments  in  this  country.  Fifty- 
eight  years  more  have  passed  since  Jeffrey  joined  it,  and 
it  still  flourishes,  and  can  never  expire  now,  except  by  the 
unworthiriess  of  the  youths  in  whose  days  it  shall  sink. 
Jeffrey  scarcely  required  it  for  improvement  in  composi- 
tion ;  but  though  he  had  occasionally  tried  his  speaking 
powers  in  one  or  two  obscure  and  casual  associations,  he 
had  never  been  a  regular  working  member  of  a  society  like 
this,  on  which  age  and  reputation  conferred  importance, 
where  the  awe  of  order  was  aided  by  hereditary  respect  for 
not  very  flexible  rules,  and  superiority  was  difficult,  and 
every  effort  to  attain  it  formidable.  It  was  exactly  what 
he  required,  and  he  gave  himself  to  it  with  his  whole  heart. 
The  period  for  regular  attendance  was  three  years ;  but 
his  voluntary  and  very  frequent  visits  were  continued  for  six 
or  seven  years  more.  In  the  course  of  these  nine  or  ten 
years,  he  had  a  succession,  and  sometimes  a  cluster,  of  pow- 
erful competitors.  It  is  sufficient  to  mention  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  with  whom  he  first  became  acquainted  here;  Dr. 
John  Thomson  ;  John  Allen  ;  David  Boyle,  now  Lord  Pre- 
sident of  the  Court  of  Session ;  the  Rev.  Dr.  Brunton ; 
the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne ;  the  late  Charles,  Lord  Kin- 
naird ;  Dr.  Headlam ;  Francis  Homer ;  the  late  William 
Adam,  Accountant  General  in  the  Court  of  Chancery 4 
John  A.  Murray,  and  James  Moncrieff,  both  afterward 
Judges ;  Henry  Brougham ;  Lord  Glenelg,  and  his  late 
brother,  Robert  Grant ;  James  Loch,  the  Honourable 
Charles  Stuart,  and  William  Scarlett.  The  political  sen- 
sitiveness of  the  day  at  one  time  obtruded  itself  rather 
violently  into  this  hall  of  philosophical  orators ;  but  it  soon 
passed  away,  and  while  it  lasted,  it  only  animated  their 
debates,  and,  by  connecting  them  with  public  principles 


48  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

and  parties;  gave  a  practical  interest  to  their  proceedings. 
The  brightest  period  in  the  progress  of  the  society  was 
during  the  political  storm  that  crossed  it  in  1799. 

Jeffrey  read  five  papers  in  it,  viz : — On  Nobility,  5th 
March,  1793;  on  the  effects  derived  to  Europe  from  the 
discovery  of  America,  28th  January,  1794  ;  on  the  authen- 
ticity of  Ossian's  Poems,  10th  February,  1795 ;  on  Metri- 
cal Harmony,  17th  February,  1795  ;  and  on  the  Character 
of  Commercial  Nations,  19th  January,  1796.  The  one  on 
Nobility  is  a  defence  of  inequality  of  rank,  and  a  discus- 
sion of  the  principles  on  which  it  ought  to  rest,  and  is 
greatly  above  his  estimate  of  it, — "  This  was  written,  as 
the  dates  testify,  in  a  furious  hurry,  and  delivered  in  the 
Speculative  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  it  was  finished ; 
in  truth,  it  is  not  finished.  And,  so  far  from  having  re- 
ceived any  correction,  it  was  never  honoured  by  a  review. 
Its  doctrines  are  but  faintly  impressed  on  my  memory.  I 
believe,  however,  that  I  am  sincere  in  the  greatest  number 
of  my  assertions.  I  am  conscious  that  my  theory  is  in 
several  places  highly  whimsical ;  and  very  sensible  that  my 
information  and  my  research  were  throughout  very  inade- 
quate to  the  conduct  of  a  subject  intricate  in  itself,  and  so 
deeply  sunk  in  the  profundities  of  history,  politics,  antiqui- 
ties, and  law.  The  style,  though  far  from  being  equal,  is 
greatly  too  diffuse  and  pompous  throughout.  Yet  there 
are  few  faults  more  excusable  to  such  expositions  as  this, 
than  that  disorderly  superfluity  of  words  which  usually 
swells  hasty  performances.  Anxious  to  express  fully  that 
thought  upon  which  he  cannot  afford  to  dwell  again,  the 
author  confounds  himself  with  a  number  of  tautologous 
expressions ;  and,  not  allowing  himself  sufficient  leisure  to 
ascertain  the  one  luminous  and  steady  position,  he  flutters 
rapidly  round,  giving  an  imperfect  view  of  what  a  little 
coolness  might  have  exhibited  entire." 

But  it  was  the  debates  that  he  chiefly  shone  in.  He 
took  a  zealous  part  in  every  discussion.  I  doubt  if  he  was 


SPECULATIVE   SOCIETY.  49 

ever  once  silent  throughout  a  whole  meeting.  The  Tues- 
day evenings  were  the  most  enthusiastic  and  valuable  of 
his  week.  It  is  easy  to  suppose  what  sort  of  an  evening 
it  was  to  Jeffrey  when  he  had  to  struggle  in  debate  with 
Lansdowne,  Brougham,  Kinnaird,  and  Homer,  who,  with 
other  worthy  competitors,  were  all  in  the  society  at  the 
same  time.  It  has  scarcely  ever  fallen  to  my  lot  to  hear 
three  better  speeches  than  three  I  heard  in  that  place, 
—-one  on  -National  Character  by  Jeffrey,  one  on  the  Im- 
mortality of  the  Soul  by  Horner,  and  one  on  the  Power  of 
Russia  by  Brougham. 

It  was  here  that  his  feeling  about  the  fewness  of  his 
friends  ceased.  His  first  acquaintance  with  the  persons  I 
have  named,  and  many  others  of  the  best  friendships  of 
his  life,  arose  in  this  society. 

No  wonder  that,  forty-three  years  afterward,  when  pre- 
siding at  a  dinner  to  celebrate  the  seventieth  anniversary 
of  the  institution,  he,  in  the  course  of  a  beautiful  address, 
thus  recalled  what  he  owed  it.  "  For  his  own  part,  on 
looking  back  to  that  period  when  he  had  experience  of  this 
society,  he  could  hardly  conceive  any  thing  in  after  life 
more  to  be  envied,  than  the  recollection  of  that  first  burst 
of  intellect,  when,  free  from  scholastic  restraint,  and  throw- 
ing off  the  thraldom  of  a  somewhat  servile  docility,  the 
mind  first  aspired  to  reason,  and  to  question  nature  for 
itself,  and,  half  wondering  at  its  own  temerity,  first  ven- 
tured, without  a  guide,  into  the  mazes  of  speculation,  or 
tried  its  unaided  flight  into  the  regions  of  intellectual' ad- 
venture, to  revel  uncontrolled  through  the  bright  and 
boundless  realms  of  literature  and  science.  True  it  was, 
that  all  those  hopes  were  not  realized ;  that  those  proud 
anticipations  were  often  destined  to  be  humbled ;  but  still, 
could  it  be  doubted  that  they  were  blessings  while  they 
lasted,  or  that  they  tended  to  multiply  the  chances  of  their 
being  one  day  realized  ?  He  was  afraid  he  was  detaining 
them,  but  he  could  not  avoid  stating  what  had  been  so  long 
D  5 


50  LIFE   OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 

familiar  to  his  own  mind  respecting  institutions  of  this  kind, 
which,  he  considered,  under  proper  guidance,  calculated  to 
develop  the  seeds  of  generous  emulation,  to  lay  the  foun- 
dation and  trace  the  outlines  of  that  permanent  and  glo- 
rious triumph  to  be  achieved  in  after  life."* 

In  June,  1793,  he  lost  his  uncle,  Mr.  Morehead,  and 
saw  in  that  event  the  ultimate  loss  of  his  happy  days  at 
Herbertshire.  In  announcing  this  calamity  to  his  brother, 
(29th  June,  1793,)  he  says : — «  On  the  18th  of  this  month, 
•we  lost  a  most  excellent  man,  and  an  undoubted  friend,  in 
our  worthy  Mr.  Morehead,  who  died  at  Herbertshire,  on 
that  day,  after  a  short  and  distressing  illness.  A  man 
whose  amiable  and  elegant  manners  were  by  far  his  least 
accomplishment ;  whose  unruffled  gentleness  flowed  from 
the  pure  benevolence  of  his  heart ;  whom  envy  could  not 
injure,  nor  malice  hate.  He  was  the  only  man  I  have  ever 
known,  whose  character  was  eminent  by  virtue,  without 
the  taint  of  a  single  vice :  the  friend  of  the  friendless,  the 
peacemaker,  the  liberal.  There  is  no  event  that  I  at  pre- 
sent recollect,  that  has  occasioned  me  more  sorrow." 

On  the  30th  of  August,  1793,  he  got  one  of  his  first 
views  of  the  scenes  he  was  to  act  in,  by  being  present,  as  a 
spectator,  at  the  case  of  Mr.  Thomas  Muir,  advocate,  who 
was  that  day  dealt  with  at  Edinburgh  for  what  was  then 
called  sedition.  There  was  a  story  about  the  mother  of 
that  unfortunate  man  having  dreamed  that  he  would  one 
day  be.  lord  chancellor.  Jeffrey  says  to  Robert  Morehead, 
(31st  August,  1793,)  « I  shall  only  add,  that  I  stayed  four- 
teen hours  at  the  chancellor's  trial,  who  was  this  day  con- 
demned to  banishment  for  fourteen  years."  Sir  Samuel 
Romilly  saw  that  trial  too.  Neither  of  them  ever  forgot 
it.  Jeffrey  never  mentioned  it  without  horror. 

"  I  have  been  busy  (he  writes  to  John,  4th  November, 
1793)  ever  since  my  return  in  preparing  for  my  civil  law 

*  See  a  minute  and  excellent  history  of  the  society,  by  the  ordinary 
members,  published  in  1845,  p.  68. 


PREPARATION   FOR   THE   BAR.  51 

trials,  which  will  be  held  in  the  beginning  of  our  session, 
and  in  endeavouring  to  amass  a  sufficient  stock  of  patience 
to  carry  me  through  the  relentless  fogs  with  which  I  am 
menaced  by  the  winter.  I  got  a  fit  of  spleen  on  my  birth- 
day, I  think,  by  recollecting  that  I  had  been  crawling  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth  for  twenty  unprofitable  years,  with- 
out use,  distinction,  or  enjoyment." 

These  trials  took  place  on  the  28th  of  November,  1793. 
In  alluding  to  the  approaching  ceremony,  he  told  his  bro- 
ther, (25th  September,  1798,)  "  I  have  lounged  away  the 
weeks  which  have  passed  since  I  wrote  you  last,  in  a  state 
of  more  complete  indolence  than  I  have  been  able  to  enjoy 
for  several  months  ;  and  it  is  not  without  some  emotion  of 
alarm  that  I  look  forward  to  the  drudgery  which  is  pre- 
paring for  me  in  winter.  Yet  I  cannot  say  that  the  inter- 
val of  inaction  has  been  distinguished  by  any  feeling  of 
peculiar  satisfaction,  or  enlivened  by  any  occurrence  which 
ought  to  make  its  remembrance  pleasing.  Yet  tranquillity 
is  delightful ;  and  it  is  with  regret  that  the  mind  rouses 
itself  to  active  exertion,  after  it  has  languished  for  a  long 
time  in  the  pensive  bowers  of  recollection.  It  is  certainly 
giving  a  very  wretched  account  of  my  employment  of  time ; 
but  I  live  less  for  the  present  than  for  the  past,  and  rarely 
look  into  the  future,  except  for  the  end  of  some  scheme 
whose  birth  my  retrospection  has  been  contemplating.  I 
have  been,  however,  yawning  over  my  civil  law,  in  which  I 
take  my  trials  on  my  return  ;  and  have  besides  found  time 
to  write  a  variety  of  sonnets,  and  to  dissuade  Robert  More- 
head  from  the  temptation  of  a  bishopric." 

This  dissuasive  was  a  very  long  letter  (25th  June,  1798) 
advising  Morehead  not'  to  enter  the  English  Church.  One 
of  his  reasons  was,  that  if  he  once  got  into  it,  he  could 
never  get  out.  "  But  there  are  permanent  truths  and  per- 
manent tempers  too,  after  all,  no  doubt ;  and  if  you  are 
really  persuaded  that  no  future  day,  nor  any  future  occur- 
rence can  alter  your  sentiments,  1  have  nothing  to  do  but 


52  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

to  congratulate  you,  and  sigh  for  myself,  who  have  lived 
on  this  earth  very  nearly  one  score  of  years,  and  am  about 
to  pass  some  professional  trials  in  a  few  months,  who  have 
no  fortune  hut  my  education,  and  who  would  not  bind  my- 
self to  adhere  exclusively  to  the  law  for  the  rest  of  my  life, 
for  the  bribery  of  all  the  emoluments  it  has  to  bestow." 

This  "  tremendous  epistle,"  as,  from  its  length,  he  calls 
it,  did  not  convince  the  person  it  was  addressed  to.  Mr. 
Morehead  took  orders,  and  never  once  desired  to  leave  that 
church,  to  which  he  was  sincerely  attached,  and  into  which  he 
carried  all  the  kind  and  lowly  qualities  that  grace  it.  After 
some  slender  preferments,  he  became  Rector  of  Easington, 
in  Yorkshire.  He  published  some  very  pleasing  sermons ; 
and  though  he  published  very  little  poetry,  its  composition 
was  one  of  his  habitual  enjoyments.  Simple,  humble,  pious, 
and  benevolent, — devoted  to  his  official  duties,  of  literary 
habits,  contented  with  every  position  in  which  it  pleased 
Providence  to  place  him, — he  could  not  but  be  beloved  by 
all  who  knew  his  quiet  virtues.  To  Jeffrey,  who  had  been 
his  playmate  in  the  fields  of  Herbertshire,  and  throughout 
life  was  never  estranged  from  him  one  moment,  and  knew 
his  very  heart,  he  was  an  object  of  special  affection.  No 
two  creatures  of  the  same  species  could  be  more  unlike ; 
but  in  mutual  regard  they  were  one. 

After  committing  himself  by  the  rather  expensive  step 
of  his  first  trials,  there  are  some  interesting  gleams  in  his 
letters  to  his  brother,  of  his  feelings  and  anticipations. 

"  I  shall  study  on  to  the  end  of  my  days.  Not  law, 
however,  I  believe,  though  that  is  yet  in  a  manner  to  be- 
gin ;  but  something  or  other  I  shall — I  am  determined.  I 
told  you,  I  think  in  my  last  letter,  I  had  just  surmounted 
my  first  public  trials.  I  think  you  know  -that  I  cannot  be 
brought  up  on  my  last  till  after  the  interval  of  twelve 
Tdonths.  So  that  I  shall  yet  have  a  reasonable  period  for 
the  preparation  of  my  first  speech." — (28tlj  December, 
1793.)  "  I  \vish  you  would  let  me  know  what  sort  of  a 


PREPARATION    FOR   THE   BAR.  53 

thing  it  is  to  be  a  merchant,  and  whether  you  think  I  should 
like  it ;  for,  -without  any  affectation,  I  have  very  often  deep 
presages  that  the  law  will  not  hold  me.  There  is  such  a 
shoal  of  us,  and  I  have  seen  so  much  diligence  and  genius 
and  interest  neglected,  that  there  would  be  insolence  in 
reckoning  upon  success.  For  my  own  disappointment,  I 
should  not  grieve  above  measure,  but  there  are  others 
through  whom  it  may  affect  me. — (1st  February,  1794.)" 

"  I  have  been  so  closely  occupied  in  hearing  and  writing 
law  lectures  ever  since  November,  that  a  short  interval  of 
leisure  very  much  distresses  me.  For  the  habit  I  have 
acquired,  of  doing  nothing  but  my  task,  prevents  me  from 
laying  it  out  to  any  advantage,  and  the  shortness  of  its 
duration  will  not  allow  me  to  supplant  that  habit.  If  thia 
be  a  specimen  of  the  life  which  I  am  hereafter  to  lead, 
though  the  stupidity  which  accompanies  it  may  prevent  me 
from  feeling  much  actual  uneasiness,  yet  the  remembrance 
of  other  days  will  always  be  attended  with  regret.  That 
sort  of  resignation  of  spirit  which  was  favoured  by  the  de- 
pression and  the  confinement  of  winter,  is  beginning  to  fail 
on  the  approach  of  spring,  and,  raised  by  the  rustling  of 
the  western  gales,  and  the  buds,  and  the  sun,  and  the 
showers,  my  spirits  have  awakened  once  again,  and  are 
execrating  the  torpor  in  which  they  have  been  lost.  This 
I  write  to  you  merely  because  it  is  what  is  uppermost  in 
my  mind  at  present,  and  because  I  would  have  you  accus- 
tomed, in  due  time,  not  to  look  for  my  success  as  a  man  of 
business.  Every  day  I  see  greater  reason  for  believing 
that  this  romantic  temper  will  never  depart  from  me  now. 
Vanity  indulged  it  at  the  first,  but  it  has  obtained  the 
support  of  habit,  and,  as  I  think,  of  reason." — (2d  March, 
1794.)  »  My  notions  of  philosophy  rather  lead  me  to  con- 
sider a  steady  contemplation  of  .the  worst  as  the  .best  pre- 
paration for  its  possible  occurrence.  But  my  temper  is  too 
sanguine,  and  my  activity,  I  believe,  too  great,  to  render 
it  possible  for  such  occasional  anticipation  to  induce  a 

5* 


54  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

habit  of  dejection  or  remissness.  In  the  mean  time,  I  will 
tell  you  truly,  again,  that  rny  prospects  of  success  are  not 
very  flattering ;  though  I  cannot  help  believing  that  this 
impression  will  not  greatly  abate  my  efforts  to  insure  it, 
though  it  may  lighten  the  disappointment  which  would 
attach  upon  my  failure.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  may 
have  changed,  or  you  may  have  forgotten,  but  I  assure 
you  that  at  present  I  look  upon  myself  as  a  person  of  very 
singular  perseverance,  and  know  very  few  who  will  engage 
in  greater  labours  with  expectation  less  sanguine." — (Glas- 
gow, 29th  August,  1794.) 

He  was  possessed  of  a  notion,  at  this  time,  that  he  hated 
Edinburgh,  and  liked  Glasgow.  "  After  a  long  abode  in 
the  country,  I  am  disgusted  with  every  thing  that  offers 
itself  to  me  in  the  town,  and  cannot  comprehend  the  force 
of  those  motives  which  have  led  men  to  bury  themselves 
there.  There  was  something  very  soothing  to  my  feelings 
in  the  tranquil  and  easy  manner  in  which  my  days  suc- 
ceeded one  another  at  Herbertshire ;  and  so  much  peace, 
and  so  much  innocence,  and  so  much  simplicity,  I  shall  not 
very  easily  find  in  Edinburgh.  Indeed,  I  hate  this  place 
more  and  more,  and  in  January  as  well  as  in  June.  For 
I  am  almost  alone  in  the  midst  of  its  swarms,  and  am  dis- 
turbed with  its  filth,  and  debauchery,  and  restraint,  without 
having  access  to  much  of  the  virtue  or  genius  it  may  con- 
tain."— (Edinburgh,  1st  June,  1794.)  "It  is  now  nearly 
two  months  since  I  have  been  in  Edinburgh^  and  I  do  not 
yet  know  how  long  it  may  be  before  I  return  to  it.  There 
are  few  places  which  have  less  hold  upon  my  affections, 
and  few  in  which  I  feel  myself  so  truly  solitary." — (Glas- 
gow, 29th  August,  1794.) 

This  short-lived  fancy  was  not  unnatural  at  the  moment. 
He  had. got  into  none  of  the  society  of  either  place,  but 
the  privation  which  mortified  him  in  his  native  city  was 
not  felt  in  Glasgow,  where  he  was  a  stranger.  Arid  there 
was  a  "Hebe"  at  this  time  in  the  latter  place. 


EARLY    WRITINGS.  55 

What  he  thought  the  severity,  which  only  meant  the 
dulness,  of  his  legal  studies,  was  relieved  by  a  continuance 
of  literary  labour.  After  leaving  Oxford  he  wrote  several 
papers,  besides  the  Speculative  Society  essays,  which,  with- 
out any  exact  observance  of  chronological  order,  may  as 
well  be  disposed  of  now,  before  bringing  him  into  his  pro- 
fessional life.  Very  few  of  them  remain. 

One  is  a  translation  of  Tacitus,  de  Moribus,  dated  Oc- 
tober, 1792,  of  which  he  says  : — "  This  is  very  unequally 
translated.  There  are,  however,  more  passages  to  be  cen- 
sured than  to  be  praised.  Yet  the  greatest  part  of  them 
are  capable  of  amendment,  and  by  taking  the  pitch  from 
the  highest,  a  translation,  certainly  not  inelegant,  might 
easily  be  laboured  out.  The  most  general  fault  is  pro- 
lixity. For  incorrectness  I  take  rather  to  be  a  quality  of 
every  thing  written  as  this  has  been  done,  than  of  any 
genius  whatever.  I  shall  never  correct  nor  copy  this,  and 
in  time  may  mistake  the  blunder  of  precipitation  for  that 
of  ignorance." 

Two  abstracts,  one  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  and  one 
of  the  Novum  Organum,  though  short,  bring  out  the  sub- 
stance of  these  works  with  condensed  fulness. 

A  translation  of  Demosthenes  against  Ctesiphon  is  as 
good  as  most  such  translations. — (Herbertshire,  22d  July, 
1794.) 

There  is  a  long  and  very  interesting  paper  entitled 
"Politics,"  dated  on  the  top  of  the  first  page,  ''Edin- 
burgh, April  4th,  1793,"  and  at  the  end  of  the  last — 
"Edinburgh,  29th  December,  1793."  It  occupies  about 
two  hundred  folio  pages.  .  His  criticism  on  it  closes  thus : 
— «  There  are  many  things  which  no  man  would  be  justified, 
even  in  my  opinion,  for  speaking  to  the  world ;  but  I  am 
not  sensible  that  there  is  any  thing  here  which  I  ought  to 
have  been  ashamed  of  having  thought.  My  conscience  has 
no  kind  of  burden.  My  errors,  I  am  sure,  are  those  of 
ignorance,  and  cannot,  by  any  party,  be  construed  into 


56  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

guilt,  as  long  as  I  have  diffidence  enough,  or  prudence 
enough,  to  keep  them  secret.  I  wrote  this  partly  with  the 
design  mentioned  in  the  beginning,  (though  I  have  become 
a  great  deal  more  neutral  since  April,)  and  partly  that  I 
might  know  what  I  thought,  and  upon  what  reasons  my 
opinions  were  founded, — circumstances  in  which,  if  I  do 
not  greatly  err,  many  would  require  some  illumination. 
The  style  of  this  work  is  not  so  unequal  as  that  of  some 
of  my  other  compositions,  though  certainly  most  tolerable 
where  it  has  been  least  attended  to.  I  think  just  so  much 
of  this  work,  that  I  wish  I  had  bestowed  more  attention 
on  its  composition,  and  adhered  more  to  plainness  and  to 
practicability.  Yet  it  is  not  all  system,  and  I  am  sure 
there  is  none  of  it  party." 

The  statement  that  "  There  are  many  things  which  no 
man  would  be  justified,  even  in  my  opinion,  for  speaking 
to  the  world,"  is  a  striking  indication  of  the  terror  which 
was  then  felt  of  any  disclosure  of  independent  opinions. 
So  far  as  I  can  judge,  there  is  not  one  expression  or  one 
sentiment  in  the  whole  paper  which  might  not  have  been 
avowed,  though  perhaps  not  with  the  approbation  of  every 
Tory,  at  any  time  within  the  last  forty,  or  even  fifty  years.; 
yet  he  was  then  afraid  to  utter  them.  It  is  a  disquisition 
on  British  affairs,  foreign  and  domestic.  After  a  .powerful 
exposition  of  the  principle,  that  forms  of  government  are 
of  far  less  importance  to  the  happiness  of  the  people  than 
the  good  administration  of  any  system  to  which  they  have 
been  accustomed,  he  discusses  the  duties  and  the  rights  of 
the  rulers  and  of  the  subjects  of  this  country,  under  the 
constitution  which  has  grown  ro.und  them.  His  doctrines 
are  those  of  a  philosophical  Whig ;  firm  to  the  popular 
principles  of  our  government,  and  consequently  firm  against 
any  encroachment,  whether  from  the  monarchical  or  the 
democratical  side.  He  is  hostile  to  the  recently  proclaimed 
war  with  France,  and  to  the  policy  and  objects  of  the  party 
that  had  embarked  in  it.  But  it  is  a  perfectly  fair  and 


10  EARLY   WRITINGS.  57 

temperate  examination  of  matters  always  open  to  discussion, 
and  is  written  with  great  richness  of  reflection  and  illustra- 
tion, and  with  great  force  and  animation  of  style.  The 
views  expressed  in  this  essay  adhered  to  him  through  life. 
Indeed,  he  says  that  they  will.  His  beginning  is,  "  His- 
tory will  record  the  events  which  signalize  the  present 
crisis,  and  posterity  will  contemplate  with  a  cool  and  un- 
prejudiced eye  those  parties,  principles,  and  actions,  which 
now  divide  mankind  so  widely.  But  history  will  not  record, 
what  it  may  be  pleasant  hereafter  to  review,  the  personal 
opinions  and  present  impressions  of  an  observer,  who,  if  he 
cannot  pretend  the  impartiality  of  absolute  indifference, 
may  yet  claim  the  credentials  of  candour,  sincerity,  and 
moderation,  in  the  principles  he  has  embraced.  Though 
the  frenzy  of  opposition  may  often  beget  a  similar  violence, 
in  a  mind  of  itself  disposed  to  accommodation,  and  though 
several  circumstances  of  unpleasing  recollection  have  at- 
tempted to  impose  upon  my  judgment  by  such  exasperation, 
I  am  pretty  confident  that  the  opinion  I  am  now  about  to 
deliver  will  continue  to  influence  my  political  sentiments  as 
long  as  subjects,  in  themselves  so  cumbrous  and  fatiguing, 
shall  retain  any  decided  place  in  my  mind.  I  am  enrolled 
in  no  party,  and  initiated  in  no  club ;  habit  has  added 
nothing  to  the  confidence  of  my  trust  in  reason,  nor  raised 
any  illegal  obstacle  to  the  repetition  of  her  triumphs  by  the 
demolition  of  my  errors.  Neither  vanity,  nor  interest,  nor 
avarice,  have  hitherto  had  any  effect  in  warping  the  politi- 
cal tenets  of  one  who  is  too  mean  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
glory,  and  too  honest  to  belie  the  assertion  of  his  soul  for 
the  sake  of  riches  or  promotion.  Those  seductive  princi- 
ples may  one  day  overthrow  that  integrity  which  they  have 
not  yet  assailed ;  and  even  I  may  smile  with  contempt,  as 
I  overlook  those  words,  and  remember  that  they  were  writ- 
ten neither  to  be  seen  nor  to  be  obeyed,  but  merely  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  that  innocence  which  is  never 
despised  till  it  has  ceased  to  exist." 


58  LIFE   OF   LORD    JEFFREY. 

I  am  tempted  to  quote  one  other  passage,  neither  from 
its  importance  nor  its  originality,  but  because  it  evinces  a 
spirit  in  advance  of  the  age.  If  there  was  any  principle 
that  was  reverenced  as  indisputable  by  almost  the  whole 
adherents  of  the  party  in  power  sixty,  or  even  fifty,  or  per- 
haps even  forty  years  ago,  it  was,  that  the  ignorance  of  the 
people  was  necessary  for  their  obedience  to  the  law.  A 
concession  was  always  made  in  Scotland,  in  favour  of  such 
teaching  as  might  at  least  enable  the  poor  to  read  the 
Bible ;  but  even  this  was  a  step  beyond  England ;  and  in 
both  countries  the  expediency  of  a  more  extended  and  a 
higher  popular  education  was  considered  as  a  mere  Jacobini- 
cal pretence.  Jeffrey,  writing  in  1793,  says :  "  The  vio- 
lence of  the  multitude  is  indeed  to  be  dreaded,  but  it  will 
not  be  violent  unless  it  be  uninformed.  It  is  superfluous 
to  add,  that  a  people  who  are  enlightened  are  likely  to  be 
in  the  same  proportion  contented ;  and  that  the  diffusion 
of  knowledge  is  yet  more  essential,  perhaps,  to  their  tran- 
quillity, than  it  is  to  their  freedom.  Those  who  are  in  pos- 
session of  the  truth,  and  of  the  principles  on  which  it  is 
founded,  will  not  be  moved  by  all  the  artifice  that  sophistry 
can  employ,  and  will  laugh  to  scorn  those  dangerous  im- 
postors who  succeed  in  seducing  the  ignorant.  As  a  wise 
man  rarely  suffers  from  the  errors  which  delude  the  vulgar, 
so  that  vulgar,  when  informed  and  illuminated,  may  listen 
in  safety  to  the  charms  against  which  it  was  not  proof  be- 
fore ;  as  the  twig  that  was  agitated  with  any  breeze,  may 
come  at  length  to  sustain  the  force  of  the  tempest  without 
bending." 

But  the  most  curious  of  all  his  early  pursuits  was  the 
poetical  one.  There  is  nothing  wonderful  in  any  young 
man  being  allured  into  this  region ;  because,  of  all  ambi- 
tions, poetry,  where  its  laurels  appear  to  be  attainable,  is 
the  least  capable  of  being  resisted  ;  and  where  the  rhyth- 
mical form  is  mistaken  for  the  poetical  substance,  it  is  re- 
.duced  to  an  easy,  yet  attractive  mechanical  art:  But  none 


HIS    EARLY   POETRY.  59 

of  Jeffrey's  lines  were  written,  as  youthful  lines  so  often 
are,  for  immediate  display.  His  being  in  the  habit  of 
making  verses  seems  to  have  been  known  only  to  his  brother 
and  sisters,  and  to  Robert  Morehead ;  and,  like  his  other 
early  exertions,  were  almost  never  mentioned  afterward  by 
himself.  If  he  had  practised  the  art  as  a  mere  superficial 
accomplishment,  he  would  have  cared  less  for  his  addiction 
to  it  being  known.  But  he  plainly  had  a  higher  and  more 
distant  end  in  view,  and  sometimes  fancied  that  the  glories 
of  genuine  poetry  were  not  certainly  beyond  his  grasp. 

Writing  from  Oxford  to  his  sister,  (25th  October,  1791,) 
he  says,  "  /  feel  I  shall  never  be  a  great  man  unless  it  be 
as  a  poet;"  and,  "I  have  almost  returned  to  my  water 
system,  for  I  have  scarcely  tasted  wine  this  fortnight ;  of 
course  I  have  spent  it  mostly  in  solitude,  and  I  think  most 
pleasantly  of  any  since  I  came  here.  This  way  of  life  does 
certainly  nourish  a  visionary  and  romantic  temper  of  mind, 
which  is  quite  unfit  for  this  part  of  the  world,  and  which 
makes  one  first  be  stared  at,  and  then  neglected.  But  my 
aim  is  to  live  happily  without  regard  to  these  things.  Not- 
withstanding all  this,  my  poetry  does  not  improve  ;  I  think 
it  is  growing  worse  every  week.  If  I  could  find  in  my 
heart  to  abandon  it,  I  believe  I  should  be  the  better  for  it. 
But  I  am  going  to  write  over  my  tragedy  in  a  fortnight. 
Though  my  own  compositions  please  me  less,  those  of 
higher  hands  delight  me  more  than  ever." — (7th  Decem- 
ber, 1791.) 

He  by  no  means  abandoned  it.  On  the  contrary,  be- 
tween 1791  and  1796,  inclusive,  he  exercised  his  faculty 
of  verse  considerably.  The  largest  portion  of  the  result 
has  disappeared.  But  enough  survives  to  attest  his  indus- 
try, and  to  enable  us  to  appreciate  his  powers.  There  are 
some  loose  leaves  and  fragments  of  small  poems,  mostly  on 
the  usual  subjects  of  love  and  scenery,  and  in  the  form  of 
odes,  sonnets,  elegies,  &c. ;  all  serious,  none  personal  or 
satirical.  And  besides  these  slight  things,  there  is  a  com- 


60  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

pleted  poem  on  Dreaming,  in  blank  verse,  about  1800 
lin^s  long.  The  first  page  is  dated,  Edinburgh,  May  4, 
1701  ;  the  last,  Edinburgh,  25th  June,  1791 ;  from  which 
I  presume  that  we  are  to  hold  it  to  have  been  all  written 
in  these  fifty-three  days — a  fact  which  accounts  for  the 
absence  of  high  poetry,  though  there  be  a  number  of  poeti- 
cal conceptions  and  flowing  sentences.  Then  there  is  a 
translation  into  blank  verse  of  the  third  book  of  the  Argo- 
nauticon  of  Apollonius  Rhodius.  The  other  books  are 
lost,  but  he  translated  the  whole  poem,  extending  to  about 
six  thousand  lines.  He  says  of  this  work  to  Mr.  More- 
head — (12th  Dec.,  1795) — "  I  have  also  written  six  hun- 
dred lines,  in  a  translation  of  the  Argos  of  Apollonius, 
which  I  am  attempting  in  the  style  of  Cowper's  Homer ; 
and  it  is  not  much  further  below  him,  than  my  original  is 
under  his."  And  I  may  mention  here,  though  it  happens 
to  be  in  prose,  that  of  two  plays,  one,  a  tragedy,  survives. 
It  has  no  title,  but  is  complete  in  all  its  other  parts.  His 
estimate  of  its  merits  does  certainly,  not  savour  of  conceit. 
«  Edinburgh,  13th  February,  1794. — The  first  sheet  of  this 
I  brought  with  me  from  Oxford  in  July,  1792,  and  I  have 
completed  it  by  writing  two  or  three  lines  every  two  or 
three  months  since.  Upon  the  whole,  it  is  exceedingly 
flat,  slow,  and  uninteresting.  My  aim  was  to  steer  free 
of  the  pompous  and  sputtering  magnificence  of  our  rude 
tragedies,  and  into  which  I  had  some  tendency  to  fall. 
This  has  been  pretty  well  accomplished  ;  but  I  have  all  the 
faults  of  the  opposite  extreme.  Languid,  affected,  pedan- 
tic, the  fable  has  no  meaning,  and  the  characters  nothing 
characteristic.  There  is  too  little  action  throughout,  and 
the  whole  piece  is  but  a  succession  of  conversations.  Yet 
the  simplicity  of  diction,  as  well  as  of  soul,  which  I  have 
endeavoured  to  exhibit,  prevent  these  defects  from  being 
very  disgusting,  and  make  it  rather  drowsy  than  abomi- 
nable." He  was  fond  of  parodying  the  Odes  of  Horace, 
with  applications  to  modern  incidents  and  people,  and  did 


HIS   EARLY   POETRY.  61 

it  very  successfully.  The  Otium  Divos  was  long  remem- 
bered. Notwithstanding  this  perseverance,  and  a  decided 
poetical  ambition,  he  was  never  without  misgivings  as  to 
his  success.  I  have  been  informed  that  he  once  went  so 
far  as  to  leave  a  poem  with  a  bookseller,  to  be  published, 
and  fled  to  the  country ;  and  that,  finding  some  obstacle 
had  occurred,  he  returned,  recovered  the  manuscript,  re- 
joicing that  he  had  been  saved,  and  never  renewed  so  peril- 
ous an  experiment. 

There  may  be  some  who  would  like  to  see  these  compo- 
sitions, or  specimens  of  them,  both  on  their  own  account, 
and  that  the  friends  of  the  many  poets  his  criticism  has 
offended  might  have  an  opportunity  of  retaliation,  and  of 
showing,  by  the  critic's  own  productions,  how  little,  in  their 
opinion,  he  was  worthy  to  sit  in  judgment  on  others.  But 
I  cannot  indulge  them.  Since  Jeffrey,  though  fond  of 
playing  with  verses  privately,  never  delivered  himself  up  to 
the  public  as  the  author  of  any,  I  cannot  think  that  it  would 
be  right  in  any  one  else  to  -exhibit  him  in  this  capacity.  I 
may  acknowledge,  however,  that,  so  far  as  1  ?an  judge, 
the  publication  of  such  of  his  poetical  attempts  as  remain, 
though  it  might  show  his  industry  and  ambition,  would 
not  give  him  the  poetical  wreath,  and  of  course  would  not 
raise  his  reputation.  Not  that  there  are  not  tons  of  worse 
verse  published,  and  bought,  and  even  read,  every  year, 
but  that  their  publication  would  not  elevate  Jeffrey.  His 
poetry  is  less  poetical  than  his  prose.  Viewed  as  mere 
literary  practice,  it  is  rather  respectable.  It  evinces  a 
general  acquaintance,  and  a  strong  sympathy,  with  moral 
emotion,  great  command  of  language,  correct  taste,  and  a 
copious  possession  of  the  poetical  commonplaces,  both  of 
words  and  of  sentiment.  But  all  this  may  be  without  good 
poetry. 

One  of  the  poetical  qualities — a  taste  for  the  beauties 
and  the  sublimities  of  nature — he  certainly  possessed  in  an 
eminent  degree.  His  eye,  which  had  a  general  activity  of 

6  • 


G2  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

observation,  -was  peculiarly  attracted  by  these  objects ;  and 
this  not  for  the  mere  exercise  of  watching  striking  appear- 
ances, but  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  feelings  with  which 
they  were  connected.  The  contemplation  of  the  glories  of 
the  external  world  was  one  of  his  habitual  delights.  All 
men  pretend  to  enjoy  scenery,  and  most  men  do  enjoy  it, 
though  many  of  them  only  passively ;  but  with  Jeffrey  it 
was  indispensable  for  happiness,  if  not  for  existence.  He 
lived  in  it.  The  earth,  the  waters,  and  especially  the  sky, 
supplied  him  in  their  aspects  with  inexhaustible  materials 
of  positive  luxury,  on  which  he  feasted  to  an  extent  which 
those  who  only  knew  him  superficially  could  not  suspect. 
Next  to  the  pleasures  of  duty  and  the  heart,  it  was  the 
great  enjoyment. 

On  the  16th  of  December,  1794,  he  was  admitted  to 
practise  at  the  bar. 

"No  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  prospects  which  this  privi- 
lege opened,  or  of  the  good  which  he  ultimately  did,  without 
knowing  something  of  the  political  state  of  Scotland  when 
he  thus  came  into  public  life. 

Every  thing  was  inflamed  by  the  first  French  Revolution, 
Even  in  England  all  ordinary  faction  was  absorbed  by  the 
two  parties — of  those  who  thought  that  that  terrible  exam- 
ple, by  showing  the  dangers  of  wrongs  too  long  maintained, 
was  the  strongest  reason  for  the  timely  correction  of  our 
own  defects, — and  of  those  who  considered  this  opinion  as 
a  revolutionary  device,  and  held  that  the  atrocities  in 
France  were  conclusive  against  our  exciting  sympathetic 
hopes,  by  any  admission  that  curable  defect  existed.  It 
would  have  been  comfortable  if  these  had  been  merely  argu- 
mentative views  upon  a  fair  subject  of  amicable  discussion. 
But  they  were  personal  as  well  as  political  feelings,  and 
separated  people  into  fierce  hostile  factions,  each  of  which 
thought  that  there  was  no  safety  for  the  state,  or  for  itself, 
without  the  destruction  of  the  other.  Never,  since  our  own 
Revolution,  was  there  a  period  when  public  life  was  so  ex- 


FORMER   CONDITION   OF   SCOTLAND.  G3 

asperated  by  hatred,  or  the  charities  of  private  life  were  so 
soured  by  political  aversion. 

If  this  was  the  condition  of  England,  with  its  larger 
population,  its  free  institutions,  its  diffused  wealth,  and  its 
old  habits  of  public  discussion,  a  few  facts  will  account  for 
the  condition  of  Scotland. 

There  was  then  in  this  country  no  popular  representa- 
tion, no  emancipated  burghs,  no  effective  rival  of  the  Esta- 
blished Church,  no  independent  press,  no  free  public  meet- 
ings, and  no  better  trial  by  jury,  even  in  political  cases, 
(except  high  treason,)  than  what  was  consistent  with  the 
circumstances  that  the  jurors  were  not  sent  into  court  under 
any  impartial  rule,  and  that,  when  in  court,  those  who  were 
to  try  the  case  were  named  by  the  presiding  judge.  The 
Scotch  representatives  were  only  forty-five,  of  whom  thirty 
were  elected  for  counties,  and  fifteen  for  towns.  Both 
from  its  price  and  its  nature,  (being  enveloped  in  feudal  and 
technical  absurdities,)  the  elective  franchise  in  counties, 
where  alone  it  existed,  was  far  above  the  reach  of  the  whole 
lower,  and  of  a  great  majority  of  the  middle,  and  of  many 
even  of  the  higher  ranks.  There  were  probably  not  above 
1500,  or  2000  county  electors  in  all  Scotland ;  a  body  not 
too  large  to  be  held,  hope  included,  in  government's  hand. 
The  return,  therefore,  of  a  single  opposition  member  was 
never  to  be  expected.  A  large  estate  might  have  no  vote ; 
and  there  were  hundrqds  of  votes,  which,  except  nominally, 
implied  no  true  estate.  The  return  of  three  or  four  was 
miraculous,  and  these  startling  exceptions  were  always  the 
result  of  local  accidents.  Of  the  fifteen  town  members, 
Edinburgh  returned  one.  The  other  fourteen  were  pro- 
duced by  clusters  of  four  or  five  unconnected  burghs,  elect- 
ing each  one  delegate,  and  these  four  or  five  delegates 
electing  the  representative.  Whatever  this  system  may 
have  been  originally,  it  had  grown,  in  reference  to  the  peo- 
ple, into  as  complete  a  mockery  as  if  it  had  been  invented 
for  their  degradation.  The  people  had  nothing  to  do  with 


64  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

it.  It  was  all  managed  by  town  councils,  of  never  more 
than  thirty-three  members,  and  every  town  council  was 
self-elected,  and  consequently  perpetuated  its  own  interests. 
The  election  of  either  the  town  or  the  county  member  was 
a  matter  of  such  utter  indifference  to  the  people,  that  they 
often  only  knew  of  it  by  the  ringing  of  a  bell,  or  by  seeing 
it  mentioned  next  day  in  a  newspaper ;  for  the  farce  was 
generally  performed  in  an  apartment  from  which,  if  con- 
venient, the  public  could  be  excluded,  and  never  in  the 
open  air.  The  Secession  Church  had  not  then  risen  into 
much  importance.  There  were  few  Protestant  Dissenters. 
Even  the  Episcopalians  were  scarcely  perceptible.  Prac- 
tically, Papists  were  unknown.  During  a  few  crazy  weeks 
there  had  been  two  or  three  wretched  newspapers,  as  vul- 
gar, stupid,  and  rash,  as  if  they  had  been  set  up  in  order 
to  make  the  freedom  of  the  press  disgusting ;  and  with 
these  momentary  exceptions,  Scotland  did  not  maintain  a 
single  opposition  newspaper,  or  magazine,  or  periodical 
publication.  The  nomination  of  the  jury  by  the  presiding 
judge  was  controlled  by  no  check  whatever,  provided  his 
lordship  avoided  minors,  the  deaf,  lunatics,  and  others  ab- 
solutely incapable.  Peremptory  challenge  was  unknown. 
Meetings  of  the  adherents  of  government  for  party  pur- 
poses, and  for  such  things  as  victories  and  charities,  were 
common  enough.  But,  with  ample  materials  for  opposition 
meetings,  they  were  in  total  disuse.  t  I  doubt  if  there  was 
one  held  in  Edinburgh  between  the  year  1795  and  the  year 
1820.  Attendance  was  understood  to  be  fatal.  The  Very 
banks  were  overawed,  and  conferred  their  favours  with  a  very 
different  hand  to  the  adherents  of  the  two  parties.  Those 
who  remember  the  year  1810  can  scarcely  have  forgotten 
the  political  spite  that  assailed  the  rise  of  the  Commercial 
Bank,  because  it  proposed,  by  knowing  no  distinction  of 
party  in  its  mercantile  dealings,  to  liberate  the  public,  but 
especially  the  citizens  of  Edinburgh.  Thus,  politically, 
Scotland  was  dead.  It  was  not  unlike  a  village  at  a  great 


THE   FIRST    VISCOUNT   MELVILLE.  65 

man's  gate.  Without  a  single  free  institution  or  habit,  op- 
position was  rebellion,  submission  probable  success.  There 
were  many  with  whom  horror  of  French  principles,  to  the 
extent  to  which  it  was  carried,  was  a  party  pretext.  But 
there  were  also  many  with  whom  it  was  a  sincere  feeling, 
and  who,  in  their  fright,  saw  in  every  Whig  a  person  who 
was  already  a  republican,  and  not  unwilling  to  become  a 
regicide.  In  these  circumstances,  zeal  upon  the  right  side 
was  at  a  high  premium,  while  there  was  no  virtue  so  hated 
as  moderation. 

If  there  had  been  any  hope  of  ministerial  change,  or 
even  any  relief  by  variety  of  ministerial  organs,  the  com- 
pleteness of  the  Scotch  subjugation  might  have  been  less. 
But  the  whole  country  was  managed  by  the  undisputed  and 
sagacious  energy  of  a  single  native,  who  knew  the  circum- 
stances, and  the  wants,  and  the  proper  bait  of  every  coun- 
tryman worth  being  attended  to.  Henry  Dundas,  the  first 
Viscount  Melville,  was  the  Pharos  of  Scotland.  Who 
steered  upon  him  was  safe ;  who  disregarded  his  light  was 
wrecked.  It  was  to  his  nod  that  every  man  owed  what  he 
had  got,  and  looked  for  what  he  wished.  Always  atf  the 
head  of  some  great  department  of  the  public  service,  and 
with  the  indirect  command  of  places  in  every  other  depart- 
ment ;  and  the  establishments  of  Scotland,  instead  of  being 
pruned,  multiplying ;  the  judges,  the  sheriffs,  the  clergy, 
the  professors,  the  town  councillors,  the  members  of  parlia- 
ment, and  of  every  public  board,  including  all  the  officers 
of  the  revenue,  and  shoals  of  commissions  in  the  military, 
the  naval,  and  the  Indian  service,  were  all  the  breath  of 
his  nostrils.  This  despotism  was  greatly  strengthened  by 
the  personal  character  and  manners  of  the  man.  Hand- 
some, gentlemanlike,  frank,  cheerful,  and  social,  he  was  a 
favourite  with  most  men,  and  with  all  women.  Too  much 
a  man  of  the  world  not  to  live  well  with  his  opponents 
when  they  would  let  him,  and  totally  incapable  of  personal 
harshness  or  unkindness,  it  was  not  unnatural  that  his  offi- 
E  6* 


66  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

cial  favours  should  be  confined  to  his  own  innumerable  and 
insatiable  partisans.  With  such  means,  so  dispensed,  no 
wonder  that  the  monarchy  was  absolute.  But  no  human 
omnipotence  could  be  exercised  with  a  smaller  amount  of 
just  offence.  It  is  not  fair  to  hold  him  responsible  for  the 
insolence  of  all  his  followers.  The  miserable  condition  of 
our  political  institutions  and  habits  made  this  country  a 
noble  field  for  a  patriotic  statesman,  who  had  been  allowed 
to  improve  it.  But  this  being  then  impossible,  for  neither 
the  government  nor  a  majority  of  the  people  wished  for 
it,  there  was  no  way  of  managing  except  by  patronage. 
Its  magistrates  and  representatives,  and  its  other  base  and 
paltry  materials,  had  to  be  kept  in  order  by  places,  for 
which  they  did  what  they  were  bidden  ;  and  this  was  really 
all  the  government  that  the  country  then  admitted  of. 
Whoever  had  been  the  autocrat,  his  business  consisted  in 
laying  forty-five  Scotch  members  at  the  feet  of  the  govern- 
ment. To  be  at  the  head  of  such  a  system  was  a  tempting 
and  corrupting  position  for  a  weak,  a  selfish,  or  a  tyranni- 
cal man.  But  it  enabled  a  man  with  a  head  and  a  temper 
like  Dundas's,  to  be  absolute,  without  making  his  subjects 
fancy  that  they  ought  to  be  offended.  Very  few  men  could 
have  administered  it  without  being  hated.  He  was  not 
merely  worshipped  by  his  many  personal  friends,  and  by 
the  numerous  idolaters  whom  the  idol  fed  ;  but  was  respect- 
ed by  the  reasonable  of  his  opponents ;  who,  though  doomed 
to  suffer  by  his  power,  liked  the  individual ;  against  whom 
they  had  nothing  to  say,  except  that  he  was  not  on  their 
side,  and  reserved  his  patronage  for  his  supporters.  They 
knew  that,  though  ruling  by  a  rigid  exclusion  of  all  un- 
friends who  were  too  proud  to  be  purchased,  or  too  honest 
to  be  converted,  he  had  no  vindictive  desire  to  persecute  or 
to  crush.  He  was  the  very  man  for  Scotland  at  that  time, 
and  is  a  Scotchman  of  whom  his  country  may  be  proud. 
Skilful  in  parliament,  wise  and  liberal  in  council,  and  with 
an  almost  unrivalled  power  of  administration,  the  usual 


FOBMER   CONDITION   OF   SCOTLAND.  67 

reproach  of  his  Scotch  management  is  removed  by  the  two 
facts,  that  he  did  not  make  the  bad  elements  he  had  to  work 
•with,  and  that  he  did  not  abuse  them ;  which  last  is  the 
greatest  praise  that  his  situation  admits  of. 

In  addition  to  common  political  hostility,  this  state  of 
things  produced  great  personal  bitterness.  The  insolence, 
or  at  least  the  confidence,  of  secure  power  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  indignation  of  bad  usage  on  the  other,  put  the 
weaker  party,  and  seemed  to  justify  it,  under  a  tacit  pro- 
scription. It  both  excluded  those  of  one  class  from  all 
public  trust,  which  is  not  uncommon,  and  obstructed  their 
attempts  to  raise  themselves  any  how.  To  an  extent  now 
scarcely  credible,  and  curious  to  think  of,  it  closed  the 
doors  and  the  hearts  of  friends  against  friends.  There  was 
no  place  where  it  operated  so  severely  as  at  the  bar. 
Clients  and  agents  shrink  from  counsel  on  whom  judges 
frown.  Those  who  had  already  established  themselves,  and 
had  evinced  irresistible  powers,  kept  their  hold  ;  but  the 
unestablished  and  the  ordinary  had  little  chance.  Every- 
where, but  especially  at  the  bar,  a  youth  of  a  Tory  family 
who  was  discovered  to  have  imbibed  the  Whig  poison  was 
considered  as  a  lost  son. 

These  facts  enable  us  to  appreciate  the  virtuous  courage 
of  those  who  really  sought  for  the  truth,  and  having  found 
it,  as  they  thought,  openly  espoused  it.  But  they  were  not 
without  encouragement.  Though  externally  the  people 
were  crushed,  the  spirit,  always  kindled  by  injury,  was  not 
extinguished.  The  shires,  with  only  a  few  individual  ex- 
ceptions, were  soulless.  But,  in  all  towns,  there  were  some 
thinking,  independent  men.  Trade  and  manufactures 
were  rising — the  municipal  population  was  increasing — 
the  French  Revolution,  with  its  excitement  and  discus- 
sion of  principles,  was  awakening  many  minds.  The  great 
question  of  burgh  reform,  demonstrably  elear  in  itself,  but 
then  denounced  as  revolutionary,  had  begun  that  deep  and 
just  feeling  of  discontent,  which  operated  so  beneficially 


68  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEPFRKY. 

on  the  public  spirit  of  the  citizens  all  over  Scotland  for  the 
next  forty  years.  The  people  were  silent  from  prudence. 
A  first  conviction  of  simple  sedition  by  a  judge-named  jury 
was  followed  by  transportation  for  fourteen  years.  They 
therefore  left  their  principles  to  the  defence  of  the  leading 
Whigs;  who,  without  any  special  commission,  had  the  moral 
authority  that  belongs  to  honesty  and  fearlessness.  These 
were  chiefly  lawyers ;  whose  powers  and  habits  connected 
them  with  public  affairs  ; — a  bold  and  united  band,  without 
whose  steadiness  the  very  idea  of  independence  would,  for 
the  day,  have  been  extinguished  in  Scotland. 

They  had  a  few,  but  only  a  few,  external  supporters ; 
but  these  bore  powerful  names.  It  was  only  the  strong 
who  durst  appear.  In  spirit  Mr.  James  Gibson  (afterward 
Sir  James  Craig)  was  in  the  Society  of  Writers  to  the 
Signet,  our  second  legal  body,  what  Henry  Erskine  was  in 
the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  our  first.  The  Rev.  Sir  Harry 
Moncrieff  stood  out  in  the  church ;  John  Allen  and  John 
Thomson  in  the  medical  profession ;  Dugald  Stewart  and 
John  Playfair  in  the  college.  It  was  chiefly,  however,  by 
their  reputations,  and  the  influence  of  their  known  opi- 
nions, that  these  and  others  promoted  the  cause  ;  because, 
Mr.  Gibson  excepted,  they  did  not  engage  in  the  daily 
schemes  and  struggles  of  the  party.  Several  other  places 
had  their  independent  men,  who  dared  to  show  their  heads. 
But  the  prevailing  impression  was  fear ;  particularly  on 
the  part  of  those  whose  livelihood  depended  on  the  counte- 
nance of  the  upper  ranks,  and  not  on  their  own  powers. 
But  this  worked  for  good  ultimately.  The  necessity  of 
suppressing  their  opinions  increased  the  attachment  with 
which  these  opinions  were  secretly  clung  to,  and  cherished 
an  intensity  of  public  principle  which  easier  times  do  not 
require,  and  therefore,  except  in  very  thinking  minds, 
rarely  attain.  The  fruit  appeared  in  due  time. 

In  so  far  as  Scotland  was  concerned,  there  could  be  no 
loubt  of  the  policy  of  this  party,  and  little  ground  for  de- 


THE   SCOTCH   WHIG   PARTY.  69 

spair.  The  sole  object  was  to  bring  Scotland  within  the 
action  of  the  constitution.  For  this  purpose  it  was  plain 
that  certain  definite  and  glaring  peculiarities  must  be  re- 
moved, and  the  people  be  trained  to  the  orderly  exercise  of 
public  rights ;  and,  for  the  promotion  of  these  ends,  all 
sound  principles  of  liberty,  to  whatever  region  applicable, 
must  be  explained  and  upheld.  The.  imperfections  of  the 
old  Scotch  system  were  too  gross  to  allow  any  one,  who 
had  a  due  confidence  in  the  force  of  truth,  to  doubt  their 
ultimate  correction.  And  thus,  instead  of  any  vague  gene- 
rality of  reform,  the  attention  of  our  reformers  was  con- 
centrated  on  certain  black  spots.  Those  in  power  shut 
their  eyes  and  their  ears  to  all  such  matters  ;  and  cheered 
by  a  great  majority  of  injudicious  friends,  did  not  perceive 
that,  below  their  triumphant  surface,  there  was  setting  in 
that  steady  under-current,  which,  to  the  increased  safety 
of  the  community,  has  swept  these  abominations  away. 
That  the  flag  was  kept  flying,  was  owing  almost  entirely 
to  the  spirit  of  the  Whig  lawyers. 

The  merit  of  these  men  can  only  be  measured  by  the 
fact,  that  the  state  of  affairs  made  a  long  sway  for  the 
government  party,  and,  consequently,  a  long  exclusion  of 
their  opponents  from  all  appointments,  nearly  certain ;  so 
certain,  that  no  barrister  could  espouse  Whiggism  without 
making  up  his  mind  to  renounce  all  hope  of  official  promo- 
tion. If  the  Whigs  had  been  as  steadily  in  power,  it  would 
probably  have  been  the  same  with  the  Tories  ;  but  this  does 
not  lessen  the  admiration  due  to  those,  no  matter  on  what 
side,  who  sacrificed  their  interests  to  their  principles.  It 
was  fortunate  for  the  Whig  counsel,  especially  the  juniors, 
that  the  advantage  of  the  proscription  fell  to  them.  It 
made  them  feel  that  they  had  nothing  but  themselves  to 
rely  upon ;  while  their  opponents  felt  exactly  the  reverse. 
The  latter  were  seduced  to  signalise  themselves  by  party 
violence,  and  to  rely  on  its  official  pay ; — the  former,  see- 
ing themselves  debarred  from  all  that  patronage  could 


70  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

confer,  were  compelled  to  seek  those  better  things  over 
which  it  has  no  control.  They  found  these  in  leisure  and 
study,  in  elevation  of  character,  and  in  the  habit  of  self- 
dependence.  They  have  since  reaped  their  distant,  and 
seemingly  hopeless  harvest ;  not  so  much  in  their  own  rise, 
as  in  that  rise  of  public  opinion  which  their  conduct  did  so 
much  to  produce.  But  they  had  a  long  and  severe  winter 
to  pass  through  ;  and  they,  almost  alone  of  the  liberal,  had 
courage  to  stand  out  through  its  darkest  days. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  resist  naming  and  describing  some 
of  these  men  and  their  measures.  But  this  cannot  be  con- 
verted from  a  personal  into  a  general,  or  even  a  local  his- 
tory ;  and,  therefore,  those  not  so  intimately  connected  with 
Jeffrey  as  to  have  affected  his  life,  must  be  passed  over. 
As  to  himself,  his  public  opinions,  or  rather  their  principles, 
were  coeval  with  the  growth  of  his  reason.  His  private 
writings  show  that  they  were  not  formed  without  study 
and  reflection,  and  his  purity  in  adopting  them  may  be  in- 
ferred from  their  all  being  against  his  immediate  interest. 
Nothing  beyond  his  conviction  of  their  soundness  is  ne- 
cessary in  order  to  account  for  his  adoption  of  them.  If 
accidental  circumstances  co-operated,  they  probably  con- 
sisted in  the  attraction  of  free  principles  to  such  a  mind ; 
in  his  abhorrence  of  the  prevailing  local  persecution,  and 
in  the  gloomy  intolerance  of  his  Tory  father,  contrasted 
with  the  open-hearted  liberality  of  his  Whig  uncle  of 
Herbertshire. 

The  legal  profession  in  Scotland  had  every  recommenda- 
tion to  a  person  resolved,  or  compelled,  to  remain  in  this 
country.  It  had  not  the  large  fields  open  to  the  practi- 
tioner in  England,  nor  the  practicable  seat  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  nor  the  lofty  political  and  judicial  eminences, 
nor  the  great  fortunes.  But  it  was  not  a  less  honourable 
or  a  less  intellectual  line.  It  is  the  highest  profession  that 
the  country  knows ;  its  emoluments  and  prizes  are  not  in- 
adequate to  the  wants  and  habits  of  the  upper  classes ;  it 


THE  OUTER  HOUSE.  71 

has  always  been  adorned  by  men  of  ability  and  learning, 
who  are  honoured  by  the  greatest  public  confidence.  The 
law  itself  is  not  much  upheld  by  the  dim  mysteries  which 
are  said  elsewhere  to  be  necessary  in  order  to  save  law 
from  vulgar  familiarity.  With  a  little  deduction  on  account 
of  the  feudality  that  naturally  adheres  to  real  property,  it 
is  perhaps  the  best  and  the  simplest  legal  system  in  Europe. 
It  is  deeply  founded  in  practical  reason, — aided  by  that 
conjoined  equity  which  is  equity  to  the  world  as  well  as  to 
lawyers.  There  can  be  no  more  striking  testimony  to  its 
excellence  than  the  fact,  that  most  of  the  modern  improve- 
ments in  English  law,  on  matters  already  settled  in  the 
law  of  Scotland,  have  amounted,  in  substance,  to  the  un- 
acknowledged introduction  of  the  Scotch  system.  Its  higher 
practice  has  always  been  combined  with  literature,  which, 
indeed,  is  the  hereditary  fashion  of  the  profession.  Its 
cultivation  is  encouraged  by  the  best  and  most  accessible 
library  in  this  country,  which  belongs  to  the  bar.  In 
joining  this  body,  Jeffrey  raised  a  far  slighter  obstacle  to 
his  favourite  pursuits  than  if  he  had  chosen  almojf;  any' 
other  line. 

The  mere  "  Outer  House'1  presented  every  thing  calcu- 
lated to  prepare  him  for  any  other  destination  toward  which 
he  might  have  turned.  This  Outer  House  is  a  large,  hand- 
some, historical  chamber,  in  immediate  connection  with  the 
Courts, — the  Westminster  Hall  of  Scotland.  It  is  filled, 
while  the  courts  are  sitting,  by  counsel,  and  all  manner  of 
men  of  the  law,  by  the  public,  and  by  strangers,  to  whom 
the  chief  attraction  is  the  contemplation  of  the  learned 
crowd  moving  around  them.  For  about  two  centuries  this 
place  has  been  the  resort  and  the  nursery  of  a  greater  va- 
riety of  talent  than  any  other  place  in  the  northern  portion 
of  our  island.  It  has  seen  a  larger  number  of  distinguished 
men — it  has  been  the  scene  of  more  discussed  public  prin- 
ciples, and  projected  public  movements — it  has  cherished 
more  friendships.  When  Jeffrey  sat  on  its  remoter  benches, 


72  LIFB   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

and  paced  its  then  uneven  floor,  so  did  Scott,  and  Crans- 
toun,  and  Thomas  Thomson,  and  Homer,  and  Brougham, 
and  MoricricflT,  and  many  others  who  have  since  risen  into 
eminence.  These  young  men  had  before  them  the  figures 
and  the  reputations  of  Blair,  and  Erskine,  and  Charles 
Hope,  and  Clerk,  and  other  seniors,  on  whom  they  then 
looked  with  envy  and  despair.  But  they  had  the  library, 
and  each  other,  and  every  enjoyment  that  society,  and 
hope,  and  study,  or  gay  idleness,  could  confer.  In  those 
days,  as  ever  since,  the  intercourse  of  the  lawyers  was  very 
agreeable.  They  were,  and  are,  a  well-conditioned,  joyous, 
and,  when  not  perverted  by  politics,  a  brotherly  commu- 
nity ;  without  the  slightest  tinge  of  professional  jealousy  ; 
and  so  true  to  their  principles,  whatever  they  may  be,  that 
there  have  not  been  above  two  or  three  known  political 
renegades  among  them  during  the  last  fifty  years.  May 
the  young  man  walking  the  boards  of  that  hall,  in  the 
opening  of  his  legal  career,  be  inspired  by  the  recollection 
of  the  eminent  persons  who,  throughout  so  many  genera- 
tions, Jiave  successfully  been  in  his  position,  and  in  his 
obscurity,  and  ever  keep  himself  right  by  remembering 
what  is  due  to  the  genius  of  the  place. 

We  had  no  civil  juries  then,  which  cut  off  one  great  field 
of  forensic  display.  But  this  was  made  up  for,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  by  the  Supreme  Court,  consisting  of  no  fewer 
than  fifteen  judges,  who  formed  a  sort  of  judicial  jury,  and 
were  dealt  with  as  such.  But  the  pen  was  at  that  time, 
and  for  a  long  while  afterward,  a  more  used  instrument 
than  the  tongue.  It  was  more  inglorious,  but  it  did  more 
work.  The  great  mass  of  the  business  was  carried  on  by 
writing — not  merely  by  written  pleadings^  but  by  the  whole 
circumstances  and  legal  merits  of  every  cause  being  laid 
before  the  judges  in.  the  form  of  written  or  of  printed  senti- 
ment and  argument.  Occasionally,  when  the  learning  in 
a  cause  is  nice  and  profound,  the  deliberation  and  accuracy 
of  written  discussion  has  its  advantages.  But,  intolerably, 


THE   FIRST    FEE.  73 

this  form  was  then  applied  to  every  thing :  and  this  down 
till  1825.  Justice  could  often  afford  to  be  deaf,  but  never 
to  be  blind.  What  generations  of  dumb,  but  able  and 
learned  drudges  the  custom  bred !  All  counsel,  even  the 
speaking  ones,  were  often  obliged  to  practise  it ;  but  there 
were  whole  tribes  of  silent  and  laborious  men  who  did 
nothing  else.  Many  of  them  produced  a  quarto  volume 
every  day.  They  actually  fed  themselves,  and  married, 
and  reared  families,  and  left  successions  upon  it.  This 
was  always  the  first  avenue  of  the  juniors ;  whose  con- 
siderate toil  often  crammed  their  ungrateful  seniors  with  the 
matter  out  of  which  the  senior's  lips  extracted  all  the  ap- 
plause. Jeffrey's  power  of  writing  made  this  an  easy  line 
for  him,  and  many  an  admirable  contribution  did  he  fur- 
nish in  it. 

His  talents  and  his  reputation,  which  among  young  men 
was  very  considerable,  were  his  only  ground  of  hope  in  his 
first  public  scene.  These  were  counteracted  by  his  public 
opinions,  and  by  an  unpopularity  of  manner  which  it  is 
somewhat  difficult  to  explain.  People  did  not  like  his  Eng- 
lish, nor  his  style  of  smart  sarcastic  disputation,  nor  his 
loquacity,  nor  what  they  supposed  to  be  an  air  of  affec- 
tation. These  peculiarities  gradually  faded,  and  people 
got  accustomed  to  them ;  but  they  operated  against  him 
throughout  several  of  his  early  years.  He  himself  was 
aware  of  this,  and  felt  it.  He  writes  to  his  brother  (27th 
June,  1796)  of  "the  few  to  whom  1  am  dear ;"  and  envies 
John,  who  had  gained  so  many  friends,  and  seen  so  much 
of  the  world,  "  while  I  have  been  languishing  within  my 
island  limits,  scarcely  known  to  anybody,  and  not  much 
liked  by  those  who  do  know  me." 

It  seems  to  be  necessary  that  there  should  be  a  story 
about  the  first  fee  of  every  lawyer  who  rises  high.  Jeffrey's 
is,  that  returning  home  one  day  with  a  guinea,  he  cast  it  to 
his  grandmother,  saying,  "  There  is  my  first  fee,  Granny  ; 
give  it  to  your  old  woman  at  Leith." 
7 


74  LIFE   OF   LORD   JKFFRBY. 

But  he  was  not  much  troubled  with  fees  then,  lie  always 
got  a  few  from  his  father's  connections ;  enough  to  show 
what  he  was;  but  there  he  stuck,  and  it  was  just  as  well. 

There  were  at  this  time  several  able  men  on  the  bench, 
and  at  the  bar,  of  whom  it  is  very  tempting  to  try  to  give 
some  account.  But  this  would  be  improper  in  a  narrative 
which  aims  at  merely  explaining  Jeffrey ;  and,  therefore,  I 
mention  those  persons  only  who  affected  his  life,  and  not 
those,  however  eminent  or  singular,  with  whom  he  had  only 
a  casual  or  a  professional  connection.  I  adhere  to  the 
principle  with  regret,  because  some  of  these  persons  merit 
preservation  on  account  of  their  eminence ;  and  some, 
grown  in  the  preceding  century,  were  too  picturesque  to 
have  their  like  ever  seen  again. 

For  a  long  while  his  professional  acquaintance  was  ex- 
ceedingly slight,  scarcely  extending  beyond  those  friends 
of  his  youth  who  had  gone  to  the  bar  with  him.  Of  the 
seniors,  there  seem  to  have  been  only  two  who  noticed  him  ; 
with  both  of  whom  he  lived  in  great  friendship  till  death 
removed  them. 

•  One  of  these  was  the  late  Mr.  Archibald  Fletcher,  who 
died  at  a  very  advanced  age  in  the  year  1828.  He  was 
only  a  few  years  younger  than  Jeffrey  at  the  bar,  but  was 
much  older  in  life.  It  is,  perhaps,  unnecessary  for  me  to 
say  any  thing  of  this  most  excellent  man,  because  his  me- 
rits have  been  described,  with  his  usual  discrimination  and 
force,  by  Lord  Brougham  (Speeches  3,  346).  A  pure  and 
firm  patriot,  neither  the  excitement  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, nor  the  long  and  seemingly  hopeless  slumber  that 
followed  it,  nor  the  danger  to  which  every  marked  friend 
of  the  popular  cause  was  then  exposed,  had  any  effect  in 
altering  his  course  of  calm  resolute  benevolence.  Through- 
out all  the  chances  that  occurred  in  his  long  life  he  was  the 
same,  ever  maintaining  right  opinions, — never  neglecting 
any  opportunity  of  resisting  oppression,  in  whatever  quarter 
of  the  globe  it  might  be  practised  or  threatened,  ashamed 


HENRY    ERSKINE.  75 

of  no  romance  of  public  virtue — always  ready  to  lead,  but, 
from  modesty,  much  readier  to  follow,  his  Whig  party  in 
every  conflict  of  principle, — and  all  with  perfect  candour 
and  immoveable  moderation.  His  more  peculiar  home  sub- 
ject was  the  reform  of  our  burghs,  a  matter,  however,  that 
implied  many  of  our  other  constitutional  liberations.  He 
was  almost  the  father,  and  was  certainly  the  most  per- 
severing champion,  of  this  cause.  But,  indeed*  his  whole 
life,  devoted  as  it  was  to  the  promotion  of  every  scheme 
calculated  to  diffuse  knowledge,  and  to  advance  liberty  in 
every  region  of  the  world,  was  applied  with  especial  zeal 
and  steadiness  to  the  elevation  of  his  native  country.  In 
all  his  patriotism  he  was  encouraged  by  his  amiable  and 
high-minded  wife;  of  whom  Lord  Brougham  says,  most 
justly,  that,  "with  the  utmost  purity  of  life  that  can  dig- 
nify and  enhance  female  charms,  she  combined  the  inflexible 
principles  and  deep  political  feeling  of  a  Hutchinson  and 
a  Roland."  He  was  a  sound  lawyer,  and  in  very  respec- 
table practice.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  Jeffrey  to 
discuss  questions  of  political  benevolence  with  him,  even 
in  the  extremity  of  his  age ;  sometimes  taking  the  wrong 
side  in  order  to  excite  him,  and  always  delighted  with  the 
undecaying  spirit  of  the  honest  and  liberal  old  man. 

The  other  was  the  Honourable  Henry  Erskine,  who  had 
long  been  the  brightest  luminary  at  our  bar.  His  name 
can  no  sooner  be  mentioned  than  it  suggests  ideas  of  wit, 
with  which,  in  many  memories,  the  recollection  of  him  is 
chiefly  associated.  A  tall  and  rather  slender  figure,  a  face 
sparkling  with  vivacity,  a  clear  sweet  voice,  and  a  general 
suffusion  of  elegance,  gave  him  a  striking  and  pleasing  ap- 
pearance. He  was  nearly  the  same  in  private  as  in  public ; 
the  presence  of  only  a  few  friends  never  diminishing  his 
animation,  nor  that  of  the  largest  audience  his  naturalness. 
No  boisterousness  ever  vulgarised,  no  effort  ever  encum- 
bered, his  aerial  gaiety.  Though  imposing  no  restraint 
upon  himself,  but  always  yielding  freely-  to  the  radiant 


76  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

spirit  within  him,  his  humour  was  rendered  delightful  by 
its  gentleness  and  safety.  Too  good-natured  for.  sarcasm, 
when  he  was  compelled  to  expose,  there  was  such  an  ob- 
vious absence  of  all  desire  to  give  pain,  that  the  very  per- 
son against  whom  his  laughing  daits  were  directed,  ge- 
nerally thought  the  wounds  compensated  by  the  mirth  and 
by  the  humanity  of  the  cuts.  Yet  those  will  form  a  very 
erroneous  conception  of  him  who  shall  suppose  that  the 
mere  display  of  wit  was  his  principal  object.  In  society, 
of  course,  his  pleasure  was  to  please  his  friends.  But  in 
public  he  scarcely  ever  uttered  a  joke  merely  for  the  sake 
of  the  laugh.  He  was  far  above  this  seducing  vulgarity. 
His  playfulness  was  always  an  argumentative  instrument. 
He  reasoned  in  wit ;  and,  untempted  by  the  bad  taste  and 
the  weakness  of  desiring  to  prolong  it  for  its  own  sake,  it 
ceased  the  very  instant  that  the  reasoning  was  served. 
Nevertheless,  notwithstanding  the  fascination  it  threw 
around  him,  he  had  better  have  been  without  the  power. 
It  allured  him  into  a  sphere  below  that  to  which  his  better 
faculties  would  have  raised  him,  and  established  obstructing 
associations  of  cheerfulness,  whenever  he  appeared,  in 
the  public  mind.  For  he  was  intuitively  quick  in  appre- 
hension, and  not  merely  a  skilful,  but  a  sound  reasoner ; 
— most  sagacious. in  judgment;  and  his  speaking  had  all 
the  charms  that  these  qualities,  united  to  a  copious  but 
impressive  language,  and  to  a  manner-of  the  most  polished 
and  high-born  gracefulness,  could  confer.  Hence,  though 
naturally,  perhaps,  his  intellect  was  rather  rapid  and  acute 
than  deep  or  forcible,  he  could  discharge  himself  of  all  his 
lightness  when  necessary,  and  could  lead  an  audience,  in 
the  true  tone,  and  with  assured  success,  through  a  grave 
or  distressing  discussion. 

In  his  profession  he  was  the  very  foremost.  There  were 
some,  particularly  Blair,  afterward  the  head  of  the  court, 
who  surpassed  him  in  deep  and  exact  legal  knowledge. 
But  no  rival  approached  him  in  the  variety,  extent,  or 


HENRY    ERSKINE.  77 

brilliancy  of  his  general  practice.  Others  were  skilled  in 
one  department,  or  in  one  court.  But  wherever  there  was 
a  litigant,  civil,  criminal,  fiscal,  or  ecclesiastic,  there  was 
a  desire  for  Harry  Erskine ; — despair  if  he  was  lost, — 
confidence  if  he  was  secured.  And  this  state  of  universal 
requisition  had  lasted  so  long,  that  it  could  only  have  pro- 
ceeded from  the  public  conviction  of  his  general  superiority. 
He  had  been  Lord  Advocate  during  the  coalition  adminis- 
tration, but  not  long  enough  to  enlarge  his  public  views ; 
and  when  Jeffrey  was  first  honoured  by  his  notice,  his 
brethren  had,  for  eight  successive  years,  chosen  him  for 
their  Dean,  or  official  head.  His  political  opinions  were 
those  of  the  Whigs ;  but  a  conspicuous  and  inflexible  ad- 
herence to  their  creed  was  combined  with  so  much  per- 
sonal gentleness,  that  it  scarcely  impaired  his  popularity. 
Even  the  old  judges,  in  spite  of  their  abhorrence  of  his 
party,  smiled  upon  him  ;  and  the  eyes  of  such  juries  as  we 
then  had,  in  the  management  of  which  he  was  agreeably 
despotic,  brightened  as  he  entered.  He  was  the  only  one 
of  the  marked  Edinburgh  Whigs  who  was  not  received 
coldly  in  the  private  society  of  their  opponents.  Nothing 
was  so  sour  as  not  to  be  sweetened  by  the  glance,  the  voice, 
the  gaiety,  the  beauty,  of  Henry  Erskine.  He  and  his 
illustrious  brother,  Lord  Erskine,  have 'sometimes  been  com- 
pared. There  is  every  reason  for  believing  that,  in  genius, 
Thomas  was  the  superior  creature.  But  no  comparison 
of  two  men  so  differently  placed  is  of  any  value.  It  is 
"scarcely  possible  even  to  conjecture  what  each  might  have 
been  in  the  other's  situation.  All  that  is  certain  is,  that 
each  was  admirable  in  his  own  sphere.  Cast  as  his  lot 
was,  our  Erskine  shone  in  it  to  the  utmost ;  and  it  is  no 
deduction  from  his  merits  that  no  permanent  public  vic- 
tories, and  little  of  the  greatness  that  achieves  them,  are 
connected  with  his  name.  He  deserves  our  reverence  for 
every  virtue  and  every  talent  that  could  be  reared  in  his 
position  ; — by  private  worth  and  unsullied  public  honour, 


78  LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

— by  delightful  temper,  safe  vivacity,  and  unmatched  pro- 
fessional splendour. 

Yet,  on  the  12th  of  January,  1796,  this  man  was  deprived 
of  his  deanship  on  account  of  his  political  principles,  or,«at 
least,  in  consequence  of  his  having  acted  upon  them  to  the 
extent  of  presiding  at  a  public  meeting  to  petition  against 
the  war.  This  dismissal  was  perfectly  natural  at  a  time 
when  all  intemperance  was*  natural.  But  it  was  the  Facul- 
ty of  Advocates  alone  that  suffered.  Erskine  had  long 
honoured  his  brethren  by  his  character  and  reputation,  and 
certainly  he  lost  nothing  by  being  removed  from  the  official 
chair.  It  is  to  the  honour  of  the  society,  however,  that 
out  of  161  who  voted,  there  were  38  who  stood  true  to  jus- 
tice, even  in  the  midst  of  such  a  scene.  Jeffrey  was  not 
one  of  the  thirty-eight.  There  were  three  or  four  young 
men  who  agreed  with  Erskine,  and  who  adhered  prominent- 
ly to  the  policy  of  his  party  ever  afterward,  but  who  felt 
constrained  not  to  shock  the  prejudices  of  relations,  and 
therefore  staid  away.  Jeffrey  was  one  of  these.  He  re- 
spected the  feelings  of  his  father,  and  of  his  first  patron, 
Lord  Glenlee.  He  never  repented  of  the  filial  deference, 
but  most  bitterly  did  he  ever  afterward  lament  its  necessi- 
ty. He  envied  the  thirty-eight,  and  always  thought  less 
of  himself  from  his  not  having  been  one  of  them.  It  made 
the  greater  impression  upon  him  that  this  was  the  first  pub- 
lic occasion  on  which  he  had  had  an  opportunity  of  acting 
on  his  principles. 

Neither  these  matters,  nor  any  other  distraction,  with- 
drew Jeffrey  from  his  literary  exercises.  One  of  the  two 
surviving  books  of  the  Argonauticon  is  dated  Edinburgh, 
12th  December,  1795,  and  the  other,  Edinburgh,  4th  July, 
1796.  And  there  is  a  letter  to  him  from  Dr.  Maton, 
dated  Salisbury,  13th  September,  1796,  from  which  it 
appears  that  he  had  a  serious  desire  for  some  immediate 
publication.  The  book  is  not  named ;  but  it  may  be  in- 
ferred from  the  Doctor's  words  that  it  was  a  classical 


PROFESSIONAL  PROSPECTS.  79 

translation.  "  As  matters  are,  I  might  as  well  tell  you  at 
once,  that  these  great  men,  the  booksellers,  were  not  more 
sanguine  about  the  good  reception,  or,  I  should  rather  say, 
the  good  incubation  and  sale  of  a  work  like  yours,  than 
they  were  about  mine,  when  I  had  an  idea  of  making  it 
merely  for  the  naturalists.  Your  favourite  author  seldom 
falls  into  the  hands  of  any  but  professed  amateurs  of  the 
classics,  who  are  comparatively  few  at  present,  and  one  of 
the  Bibliopoles  told  me  that  there  was  a  decent  translation 
already  by — I  know  not  by  whom.  As  I  was  only  a  week, 
or  a  little  more,  in  London,  I  could  not  take  the  charge  of 
a  part  of  your  manuscript  for  their  perusal.  Why  should 
you  not  try  the  consequence  of  publishing  a  part  only  ?  I 
mean,  to  see  how  it  would  sell.  Of  its  obtaining  a  good 
name  from  the  critics,  I  would  not  for  a  moment  entertain 
a  doubt."  No  part  of  it  ever  appeared,  however. 

His  eldest  sister,  Mary,  was  married  on  the  21st  of 
April,  1797,  to  the  late  Mr.  George  Napier,  writer  to  the 
Signet,  Edinburgh. 

His  condition  and  feelings  about  this  period,  and  for  a 
few  years  later,  transpire  in  some  passages  of  his  letters  to 
his  brother  and  Morehead. 

"  When  I  wrote  you  last  I  was  in  the  distraction  of  pass- 
ing my  last  public  trials,  and  in  the  course  of  a  fortnight 
afterward  I  had  accomplished  the  whole  ceremony,  and  was 
regularly  admitted  to  the  bar.  The  Christmas  vacation  put 
a  stop  to  my  splendid  career,  within  a  few  days  after  it 
had  begun  ;  so  that  I  have  the  , course  in  a  manner  to  re- 
new, and  the  awkwardness  of  a  first  appearance  to  expe- 
rience for  a  second  time.  The  causes  in  which  a  young 
lawyer  is  engaged,  are,  as  you  probably  know,  for  the  most 
part  of  very  little  consequence  ;  and  the  style  of  pleading 
at  the  outer  bar*  such  as  may  be  attained  without  much 
knowledge,  eloquence,  or  presence  of  mind.  It  is  literally 

*  One  of  the  Bars  in  the  Outer  House,  where  a  single  judge  sits. 


80  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

a  burst  of  wrangling  and  contradicting ;  in  which  the  loud- 
est speaker  has  the  greatest  chance  to  prevail.  I  did  not 
feel  myself  very  expert  inxthis  trade,  but  perceive  that  I 
shall  be  able  to  acquire  les  manieres  of  it  without  much 
difficulty."— (To  his  brother,  3d  January,  1795.) 

"  I  have  been  considering  very  seriously,  since  I  came 
last  here,  the  probability  of  my  success  at  the  bar,  and 
have  but  little  comfort  in  the  prospect ;  for  all  the  employ- 
ment which  I  have,  has  come  entirely  through  my  father, 
or  those  with  whom  I  am  otherwise  connected.  I  have 
also  been  trying  to  consider  of  some  other  occupation  in 
which  I  might  put  my  time  and  application  to  better  profit ; 
but  find  the  prospect  still  more  perplexing  and  obscure.  I 
am  determined,  however,  that  I  will  not  linger  away  the 
years  of  my  youth  and  activity  in  an  unprofitable  and 
hopeless  hanging  on  about  our  courts,  as  I  see  not  a  few 
doing  every  day ;  for  besides  the'waste  of  that  time  which 
can  never  be  replaced,  the  mind  becomes  at  once  humiliated 
and  enfeebled  in  such  a  situation,  and  loses  all  that  energy 
which  alone  can  lead  it  to  enterprise  and  success." — (To 
his  brother,  28th  November,  1795.) 

"  All  great  passions  are  born  in  solitude.  They  are 
tamed  and  degraded  by  the  common  intercourse  of  society; 
but  in  public  companies,  in  crowds,  and  assemblies,  they 
are  quite  lost  and  extinguished ;  and  so  by  degrees  I  come 
back  to  seriousness  and  sense.  I  wish  I  could  make  you 
as  happy  as  your  letter  made  me,  and  in  the  same  way — I 
mean  by  as  prosperous  an  account  of  my  affairs  :  but  the 
truth  is  not  so  bad  as  to  be  concealed.  I  have  been  here 
almost  ever  since  the  date  of  my  last,  lingering  away  my 
mornings  in  the  court  with  less  edification,  less  profit,  and 
less  patience,  I  think,  than  when  you  were  here.  My  eve- 
nings, too,  have  not  made  up  for  the  waste  of  time  so  well 
as  they  did  last  winter;  for  though  not  so  dissipated  as 
you,  I  have  been  very  much  out  for  the  last  month.  How- 
ever, I  weary  of  this  idle,  turbulent  sort  of  amusement,  and 


PROFESSIONAL  PROSPECTS.  81 

mean  to  withdraw  myself  into  solitude  for  another  month 
to  balance  my  accounts.  The  only  kind  of  work  with  which 
I  have  employed  myself  lately  is  in  translating  old  Greek 
poetry,  and  copying  the  style  of  all  our  different  poets  ;  but 
the  weightier  matters  of  the  law  have  been  horribly  neg- 
lected."—(27th  January,  1796.) 

"  The  last  session  has  passed  away  with  very  little  in- 
crease of  profit,  reputation,  or  expectancy ;  and  though 
almost  as  favourable  as  candidates  of  my  standing  usually 
find  it,  has  left  me  with  no  longing  for  the  approach  of 
another,  and  little  prospect  of  better  ruminations  at  the 
close  of  it.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  which  would  ensure 
me  some  kind  of  subsistence  from  my  own  exertions.  But 
to  be  in  the  condition  of  one  who  is  asking  charity,  willing 
and  waiting  to  work,  but  idle  from  want  of  employment,  is 
an  evil  attending  all  the  professions  called  liberal,  and  makes 
them  unfortunately  less  independent  than  any  other.  The 
state  of  politics,  too,  in  this  country,  and  the  excessive  vio- 
lence and  avowed  animosity  of  the  parties  in  power,  which 
have  now  extended  to  every  department  of  life,  and  come 
to  affect  every  profession,  make  the  prospect  still  less  en- 
couraging to  one  who  abhors  intolerance,  and  is  at  no  pains 
to  conceal  his  contempt  of  its  insolence." — (2d  April,  1796.) 

"I  am  extremely  hurried  at  present  preparing  for  a 
criminal  trial,  in  which  I  have  been  engaged  very  much 
against  my  inclination.  The  man  for  whom  I  attended  last 
week,  was  found  guilty  unanimously ;  and  indeed  there  was, 
no  chance  for  him.  As  to  my  new  clients, — it  is  probable 
I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  by  them,  and  look 
wise."— (16th  October,  1796.) 

This  man  was  Roderick  Milesius  M'Cuillin,  who  on  the 
13th  of  October,  1797,  was  convicted  of  forgery.  His 
case,  which,  from  the  commission  of  the  crime  down  to  his 
death  on  the  scaffold,  was,  throughout  all  its  stages,  ac- 
companied by  striking  adventures,  made  a  great  noise  at 

the  time.     It  is  impressed  on  my  memory  by  the  circum- 
F 


82  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFPRRY. 

stance,  that  I  happened  to  go  into  the  gallery  of  the  court, 
and  saw,  for  the  first  time,  Francis  Jeffrey  and  George 
Joseph  Bell,  who  were  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  and  Lord 
Braxfield,  then  the  head  of  the  criminal  court. .  I  under- 
stood nothing  about  such  matters  then,  but  I  remember 
being  much  surprised  at  the  style  of  the  counsel,  and  at 
the  vulgar  overbearing  coarseness  of  the  judge. 

"  /  should  like,  therefore,  to  be  the  rival  of  Smith  and 
Hume,  and  there  are  some  momenta,  (after  I  have  been  ex- 
travagantly praised,  especially  by  those  to  whose  censure  I 
am  more  familiar,}  when  I  fancy  it  possible  that  I  shall 
one  day  arrive  at  such  a  distinction.  But  I  could  never 
convince  myself  that  it  was  any  part  of  my  duty,  or  at  all 
likely  to  increase  the  probability  of  this  lofty  distinction, 
for  me  to  fix  my  hopes  or  my  wishes  upon  it  with  an  un- 
deviating  and  unmoveable  firmness.  I  do  not  think  we  can 
make  occasions  always  for  the  display  of  our  abilities,  and 
if  we  do  not  unfit  ourselves  for  making  use  of  them  when 
they  do  come,  I  think  the  less  we  feel  at  their  delay,  the 
happier  we  are  at  liberty  to  be." — (To  Morehead,  15th 
January,  1798.) 

In  another  letter  to  Robert  Morehead,  of  6th  August, 
1798,  he  announces  an  intended  ramble  through  Cumber- 
land and  Wales,  and  laments  that  they  are  both  getting  too 
hard  and  sensible.  "  What,  my  dear  Bobby,  are  we  turn- 
ing into  ?  I  grow,  it  appears  to  myself,  dismally  stupid 
and  inactive  ;  I  lose  all  my  originalities,  and  ecstacies,  and 
romances,  and  am  far  advanced  already  upon  that  dirty 
highway  called  the  way  of  the  world.  I  have  a  -kind  of 
unmeaning  gaiety  that  is  fatiguing  and  unsatisfactory  even 
to  myself ;  and  in  the  brilliancy  of  this  sarcastic  humour, 
.1  can  ridicule  my  former  dispositions  with  admirable  suc- 
cess. Yet  I  regret  the  loss  of  them  much  more  feelingly, 
and  really  begin  to  suspect  that  the  reason  and  gross  com- 
mon sense  by  which  I  now  profess  to  estimate  every  thing, 
is  just  as  much  a  vanity  and  delusion  as  any  of  the  fanta- 


LITERARY   PROSPECTS.  83 

sies  it  judges  of.  This,  at  least,  I  am  sure  of,  that  these 
poetic  visions  bestowed  a  much  purer  and  more  tranquil 
happiness  than  can  be  found  in  any  of  the  tumultuous  and 
pedantic  triumphs  that  seem  now  within  my  reach,  and  that 
"I  was  more  amiable,  and  quite  as  respectable  before  this 
change  took  place  in  my  character.  I  shall  never  arrive 
at  any  eminence  either  in  this  new  character,  and  have 
glimpses  and  retrospective  snatches  of  my  former  self,  so 
frequent  and  so  lively,  that  I  shall  never  be  wholly  estranged 
from  it,  nor  more  than  half  the  thing  I  seem  to  be  aiming 
at.  Within  these  few  days  I  have  been  more  perfectly 
restored  to  my  poesies  and  sentimentalities  than  I  had  been 
for  many  months  before.  I  walk  out  every  day  alone,  and 
as  I  wander  by  the  sunny  sea,  or  over  the  green  and  soli- 
tary rocks  of  Arthur's  Seat,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  escaped  from 
the  scenes  of  impertinence  in  which  I  had  been  compelled 
to  act,  and  recollect,  with  some  degree  of  my  old  enthu- 
siasm, the  wild  walks  and  eager  conversation  we  used  to 
take  together  at  Herbertshire  about  four  years  ago.  I  am 
still  capable,  I  feel,  of  going  back  to  these  feelings,  and 
would  seek  my  happiness,  I  think,  in  their  indulgence,  if 
my  circumstances  would  let  me.  As  it  is,  I  believe  I  shall 
go  on  sophisticating  and  perverting  myself  till  I  become 
absolutely  good  for  nothing." 

He  wrote  again  after  the  journey  had  begun,  from  Wig- 
ton,  3d  September,  1798,  saying  he  meant  to  take  London 
on  some  part  of  his  way.  "  I  am  going  to  be  very  literary 
in  London,  and  have  thoughts  of  settling  there  as  a  grub. 
Will  you  go  into  partnership  with  me  ?  I  have  introduc- 
tions to  review  and  newspaper  editors,  and  I  am  almost 
certain  that  I  could  make  four  times  the  sum  that  ever  I 
shall  'do  at  the  bar.  Your  friends  were  all  well  when  1 
heard  of  them.  John  is  now  asleep  before  me,  and  Dr. 
Brown  as  near  him  as  possible." — "P.  S. — I  send  you  a 
most  exquisite  sonnet,  with  which  I  was  inspired  imme- 
diately upon  my  arrival,  and  which  I  wish  you  to  circulate 


84  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

r.mong  your  friends,  as  a  production  of  the  ingenious  per- 
son whose  name  it  bears.  My  reason  for  this  is,  that  he 
may  make  his  entrde  into  Oxford  with  some  of  that  eclat 
which  it  cannot  fail  to  procure  him,"  &c.  &c. 

His  grub  speculation  got  little  encouragement.  On  the 
20th  of  the  same  month  he  tells  Mr.  Geo.  Bell,  "  I  have 
derived  but  little  benefit  yet  from  my  letters  of  introduc- 
tion. Perry*  I  can  never  find  at  home.  Philipsf  sent  me 
away  without  reading  my  letter,  and  most  of  the  other 
eminent  persons  to  whom  I  meant  to  present  myself,  are 
enjoying  their  dignity  in  the  country." 

So  much  the  better  for  him.  He  came  home,  and  was 
gradually  drawn  by  circumstances  into  the  line  of  life  which 
was  the  best  for  his  powers,  his  usefulness,  and  his  happiness. 

"  I  have  been  idle  and  rather  dissipated  all  this  summer. 
Of  late  I  have  had  fits  of  discontent  and  self-condemnation 
pretty  severely ;  but  I  doubt  if  this  will  produce  any  thing 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  The  thing,  however,  will  certain- 
ly draw  to  a  crisis  in  a  year  or  two.  My  ambition,  and 
my  prudence,  and  indolence  will  have  a  pitched  battle,  and 
I  shall  either  devote  myself  to  contention  and  toil,  or  lay 
myself  quietly  down  in  obscurity  and  mediocrity  of  attain- 
ment. I  am  not  sure  which  of  these  will  promote  my  hap- 
piness the  most.  I  shall  regret  what  I  have  forfeited,  be 
iny  decision  what  it  may.  The  unaspiring  life,  I  believe, 
has  the  least  positive  wretchedness.  I  have  often  thought 
of  going  to  India,  but  I  do  not  know  for  what  station  I 
should  be  qualified,  or  could  qualify  myself,  and  I  have 
almost  as  little  talent  for  solicitation  as  you  have." — (To 
Morehead,  6th  July,  1800.) 

These  seeming  adversities,  and  this  obvious  ambition, 
always  led  him  back  to  himself,  and  to  the  improvement 
of  his  own  miud.  He  never  gave  up  his  studies,  or  had 
any  real  hope  of  success  except  from  his  deserving  it.  In 

*  Editor  of  the  Morning  Chronicle.  f  Bookseller. 


ACADEMY    OF    PHYSICS.  85 

none  of  his  letters  is  there  the  slightest  gleam  of  expecta- 
tion from  any  patron. 

He  was  fond  of  all  science  not  depending  on  mathema- 
tics. Medicine  in  particular  had  great  attractions  for  him, 
and  for  a  short  time  he  studied  it.  His  friends  John  Allen, 
John  Thomson,  Charles  Bell,  and  Thomas  Brown,  were  all 
of  that  profession,  and  though  they  did  not  purposely  en- 
courage his  propensity,  their  conversation  produced  a  desul- 
tory-acquaintance with  their  science.  One  way  or  other, 
he  at  least  learned  enough  about  it  to  make  him  generally 
a  fanciful  sufferer  and  a  speculative  doctor,  when  he  him- 
self was  the  patient.  Chemistry  he  liked,  and,  in  its  large 
principles,  understood  respectably.  All  his  scientific  ten- 
dencies were  excited  by  his  being  a  member  of  that  sin- 
gular society  of  the  rising  young  men  then  in  Edinburgh, 
called  "  The  Academy  of  Physics."*  "  I  am  become  a 
zealous  chemist,  and  would  make  experiments  if  I  could 
afford  it,  and  was  not  afraid  of  my  eyes.  I  shall  join  a 
society  in  the  winter,  that  conducts  these  things  in  a  very 
respectable  style.  I  am  afraid  it  will  swallow  up  our  aca- 
demy, for  which  I  am  sorry.  It  was  the  most  select  and 
the  least  burdensome  thing  of  the  kind  I  was  ever  con- 
cerned with.  But  amiable  licentiousness  and  want  of 
discipline  have  extinguished  it,  or  nearly." — (To  Morehead, 
6th  July,  1800.)  This  general  acquaintance  with  science 
was  of  great  use  to  him  in  his  profession.  And  though  his 
science,  as  science,  was  neither  deep  nor  accurate,  it  was 
sufficient  to  set  him,  in  this  respect,  above  the  judges  or 
the  juries  he  might  have  to  convince,  or  any  brother  he 

*  See  a  full  account  of  it  in  Welsh's  Life  of  Brown.  They  acknow- 
ledged only  three  facts  which  were  to  be  admitted  without  proof: — 
1.  Mind  exists.  2.  Matter  exists.  3.  Every  change  indicates  a  cause. 
And  even  these  concessions  they  reserved  "  the  power  of  altering  or 
modifying."  Prof.  Brown,  John  Leyden,  Lord  Webb  Seyinore,  Mr. 
Reddie,  Dr.  Birkbeck,  Brougham,  Jeffrey,  Homer,  were  members,  and 
many  others  of  note. 


86  LIFE 'OF   LOUD   JEFFREY. 

nught  have  to  oppose ;  nor,  except  Lord  Brougham,  was 
there  any  practising  barrister,  even  in  England,  who  in 
this  particular  was  his  match. 

On  the  2d  of  March,  1800,  he  tells  his  brother,  "  I  am 
beginning  to  grow  discontented,  and  to  feel  emotions  of 
despondency  and  ambition,  that  do  no  credit  to  my  philo- 
sophy. It  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  my  profession  does 
not  afford  me  the  means  of  subsistence,  and  that  nine  parts 
in  ten  of  the  little  employment  I  have  are  derived  from 
those  with  whom  I  am  personally  connected.  If  these  per- 
sons were  to  die,  or  to  quarrel  with  me,  I  should  scarcely 
have  an  apology  for  attending  the  courts,  and  should  make 
less  by  doing  so  than  a  common  labourer.  Now  this  is 
not  only  mortifying,  but  a  little  alarming  too,  and  pru- 
dence as  well  as  pride  exhorts  me  to  look  to  something 
else.  I  have  talents  that  my  conscience  will  not  let  me 
rank  in  the  lowest  order,  and  I  had  industry  enough  too 
for  most  things,  till  the  loitering  habits  of  my  nominal  pro- 
fession, and  the  peculiar  state  of  my  health,  put  an  end  to 
any  regular  exertion.  I  have  associated,  too,  a  great  deal 
of  late  with  men  of  high  rank,  prospects,  and  pretensions, 
and  feel  myself  quite  upon  a  level  with  them,  in  every 
thing  intrinsic  and  material.  I  cannot  help  looking  upon 
a  slow,  obscure,  and  philosophical  starvation  at  the  Scotch 
bar  as  a  destiny  not  to  be  submitted  to.  There  are  some 
moments  when  I  think  I  could  sell  myself  to  the  minister 
or  to  the  Devil,  in  order  to  get  above  these  necessities. 
At  other  times  I  think  of  undertaking  pilgrimages  and 
seeking  adventures,  to  give  a  little  interest  and  diversity 
to  the  dull  life  that  seems  to  await  me  ;  and  when  I  am 
most  reasonable,  I  meditate  upon  my  chances  of  success  at 
the  English  bar,  or  in  India,  to  both  of  which  resources  I 
have  been  exhorted  and  recommended  by  some  of  my 
friends.  "What  does  your  commercial,  idle,  epicurean  head 
say  to  all  this?" 

If  these  fits  of  depression  or  impatience  had  been  serious, 


PROFESSIONAL  PROSPECTS.  87 

and  had  arisen  merely  from  his  not  getting  business,  they 
would  have  been  very  unreasonable.  He  had  only  been 
five  years  at  the  law,  and  had  got  at  least  something  to 
do,  though  not  much ;  whereas,  he  must  have  seen  that 
many  a  better  lawyer  had  been  double  that  time  without 
knowing  what  a  fee  was,  and  yet  had  risen  to  fortune  and 
renown.  But  when  men  write  about  their  own  feelings  to 
a  distant  friend,  they  are  apt  to  get  sentimental,  and  to 
describe  emotions  as  habitual  which  are  only  suggested  by 
the  act  of  writing.  This  was  the  close,  too,  of  the  winter 
session  of  the  court,  which,  by  reminding  him  how  little  he 
had  done,  naturally  disposed  him  to  pensiveness  and  com- 
plaint. Accordingly,  he  says  in  this  very  letter,  "  You 
must  not  think  that  these  reflections  are  habitual  with  me. 
They  come  in  fits,  though,  to  say  the  truth,  rather  oftener 
than  I  could  wish.  This  is  the  last  week  of  our  session." 
It  was  not  his  professional  insignificance  alone  that  troubled 
him,  but  its  being  combined  with  the  consciousness  of  ade- 
quate ability,  and  the  rise  of  very  inferior  rivals  on  the 
right  side,  who  were  flaming  over  his  head  like  rockets. 
Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  his  prevailing  state,  as 
at  every  period  of  his  life,  when  not  in  actual  distress,  was 
that  of  gaiety. 

Accordingly,  although  his  professional  despondency  lasted 
several  years  longer,  his  feeling  of  personal  loneliness  was 
now  entirely  removed.  The  Speculative  Society,  time,  the 
bar,  and  his  being  better  known,  had  led  him  into  a  wider 
society,  and  into  several  valuable  and  permanent  friend- 
ships. In  particular,  between  1797  and  1800,  some  con- 
spicuous young  men  had  come  to  Edinburgh,  to  whom, 
being  strangers,  the  merits  of  Jeffrey  were  more  apparent 
than  they  hitherto  had  been  to  many  of  those  among  whom 
he  dwelt.  Some  of  these  have  been  already  named  in 
mentioning  the  Speculative  Society,  and  it  was  to  them 
that  he  refers  in  the  preceding  letter  as  "  men  of  high  rank, 
prospects,  and  wretentiions,"  with  whom  he  had  been  assc- 


88  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

elating,  and  to  whom  lie  felt  himself  equal  "fn  every  thi 
intrinsic  and  material"  In  addition  to  these  were  Lord 
AVebb  Seymore,  Mr.  Sidney  Smith,  and  Mr.  Hamilton,  also 
strangers.  The  known  admiration  of  these  foreigners  gave 
him  importance  in  the  sight  of  those  who  were  disposed  to 
slight  him,  and  enlarged  his  experience  in  life.  And  his 
ordinary  Edinburgh  friendships  now  included  Professor 
Playfair,  Mr.  Thomas  Thomson,  Mr.  George  Joseph  Bell, 
and  his  brother  Charles,  Mr.  James  Graham,  Mr.  Broug- 
ham, Mr.  John  Macfarlane,  Mr.  John  A.  Murray,  Mr.  Hor- 
ner,  Mr.  James  Moncrieff,  and  Mr.  John  Richardson.  His 
surviving  friends  cannot  have  forgotten  his  delight  in  the 
calm  and  amiable  thoughtful  ness  oft  Playfair, — how  he 
loved  the  gentle  Seymore, — how  he  reverenced  Horner, — 
how  he  enjoyed  the  wise  wit  of  Smith. 

Of  all  these  there  was  no  one,  except  perhaps  his  cousin 
Robert  Morehead,  to  whom  he  was  attached  so  early  as  to 
the  two  Bells,  or  to  whom  he  adhered  through  life  with  a 
more  affectionate  tenacity.  Both  reached  great  distinction ; 
one  in  the  law,  the  other  in  art  and  physiology.  George 
was  long  afterward  appointed  by  the  unanimous  election  of 
his  brethren  to  the  Professorship  of  Law  in  the  College  of 
Edinburgh,  and  by  the  Crown  to  one  of  the  principal  clerk- 
ships in  the  Supreme  Court.  But  his  true  distinction  con- 
sists in  his  being  the  author  of  the  Commentaries  on  the 
Law  of  Bankruptcy,  an  institutional  work  of  the  very 
highest  excellence,  which  has  guided  the  judicial  delibera- 
tions of  his  own  country  for  nearly  fifty  years,  and  has 
had  its  value  acknowledged  in  the  strongest  terms  by  no 
less  jurists  than  Story  and  Kent.  With  a  stiff  and  some- 
times a  hard  manner,  he  was  warm-hearted  and  honourable, 
a  true  friend,  and  excellent  in  all  the  relations  of  life.  No 
one  ever  knew  him  well  without  respect  and  regard. 
Charles  is  now  known  to  the  world  as  the  author  of  a 
beautiful  work,  illustrated  by  his  own  exquisite  drawings, 
/m  the  anatomy  of  painting,  and  as  the  discoverer  of  the 


GEORGE  AND  CHARLES  BELL.  89 

true  structure  and  theory  of  our  nervous  system, — a  dis- 
covery which  places  him  at  the  head  of  modern  physiolo- 
gists. Grentle  and  affectionate,  he  was  strongly  marked 
by  the  happy  simplicity  that  often  accompanies  talent ; 
and  was  deeply  beloved  by  numerous  friends.  In  affection 
the  brothers  were  one.  George's  labour  at  his  book  used 
to  excite  Jeffrey's  envy  and  self-contempt.  "In  the  mean 
time,  what  are  you  doing  ?  and  how  do  the  days  run  away 
from" you?  Do  you  know,  since  I  have  seen  you  engaged 
in  that  great  work  of  yours,  and  witnessed  the  confinement 
and  perspiration  it  has  occasioned  you,  I  have  oftener  con- 
sidered you  as  an  object  of  envy  and  reproachful  compari- 
son than  ever  I  did  before  ?  I  am  really  a  good-for-nothing 
fellow,  I  believe,  and  have  no  right  to  expect  any  better 
fortune  in  this  world  than  I  am  likely  to  have.  I  have 
thought  so  oftener,  I  tell  you,  within  these  last  two  or 
three  months  than  ever  I  did ;  and  many  a  time  when  I 
have  skipped  down  your  stair  with  an  air  of  exulting  care- 
lessness, I  have  wished  myself  hanged  for  a  puppy,  and  you 
with  me  for  putting  me  in  mind  of  it.  I  have  no  leisure, 
however,  to  be  moral  at  present,  but  as  I  do  chew  upon 
such  reflections  very  perseveringly,  something  perhaps  will 
on'e  day  come  of  it." 

They  were  left  early  in  life  very  poor,  on  the  death 
of  their  father^  a  clergyman  in  the  Scotch  Episcopal 
Church.  As  soon  as  they  were  of  an  age  to  reflect,  they 
saw  that  they  had  nothing  to  depend  upon  except  their 
own  industry ;  and,  having  selected  their  departments,  they 
entered  upon  their  cultivation  with  an  energy  characteris- 
tic of  both.  There  are  few  things  more  touching  than  the 
high-minded  resolution  with  which  these  two  young  men, 
cheered  by  each  other,  prosecuted  the  severe  studies  out 
of  which  they  at  last  achieved  their  reward.  There  is  a 
memorandum  by  George  in  which,  among  other  things,  he 
mentions  a  .walk  that  they  took  to  Cults,  twenty-two  miles 
west  of  Edinburgh,  where  an  aunt  was  living.  Each  had 


90  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

with  him  a  part  of  what  was  afterward  converted  into  his 
first  publication,  on  which,  and  on  their  uncertain  pro- 
spects, they  had  much  anxious  talk.  "  I  recollect  we  stopped 
to  rest  ourselves,  and  drank  at  a  stream  on  the  road  side, 
and  amused  ourselves  with  thinking  how  pleasant  it  would 
be  to  remember  this  outset  of  life  when  we  were  advanced 
somewhat  higher." 

George  appears  to  have  been  among  the  first  at  the  bar 
to  discover  Jeffrey's  superiority ;  and  without  the  advice,  re- 
monstrances, and  encouragement,  of  this  steady  and  hard- 
working friend,  it  seems  very  possible  that  Jeffrey  would 
not  have  persevered  in  his  profession.  Bell  was  always 
rating,  and  inspiring  him  with  hope.  Thus,  in  answer  to 
an  impatient  letter  from  Jeffrey  of  the  7th  of  Ootober,  1796, 
Bell,  among  other  things,  tells  him  (9th  October  1796) — 
"  Upon  your  own  exertion  must  depend  not  your  happiness 
alone — for  perhaps  you  are  too  much  of  a  philosopher  to 
allow  any  thing  external  to  influence  your  happiness — but 
your  capacities  of  indulging  in  whims,  and  your  ability  of 
assisting  others.  If  so,  you  will  conceive  better  of  your 
profession  th,at  you  seem  to  do."  "With  a  strong,  lively, 
and  elegant  imagination — a  cultivated  taste, — a  mind  well 
stored  with  knowledge, — versant  in  the  law  at  least  equal 
to  any  of  your  years, — with  ready  conceptions,  and  quick- 
ness of  reply,  what  in  all  the  world  should  hinder  you  from 
attaining  to  the  head  of  your  profession.  Let  me  hear  no 
more  of  this  murmuring  and  nonsense."  "But,  in  faith, 
my  dear  fellow,  if  you  feel  really  averse  to  this  profession, 
and  unable  to  bear  its  drudgery,  you  should  at  once  resolve 
to  make  a  man  of  yourself,  and  do  honour  to  your  family 
and  your  country,  by  some  literary  labour."  Throughout 
all  that  part  of  the  life  of  every  barrister  that  must  be  pre- 
carious, Bell  was  equally  ready  with  encouraging  sense, 
and  never  despaired  of  the  final  triumph  of  the  friend  it 
was  given  to.  He  alludes  in  another  memorandum  with- 
out date,  but  written  some  years  after  this,  to  M'Cuillin's 


JAMES    GRAHAME.  91 

case,  thus : — "  On  coming  to  town  I  was  appointed  to  be 
counsel  for  a  fine  young  fellow  of  an  Irishman  charged  with 
forgery.  I  made  my  friend  Jeffrey  my  assistant.  He  was 
not  then  known.  Few  people  but  myself  knew  the  ex- 
traordinary resources  of  that  man's  genius  at  the  time. 
His  manner  was  bad,  and  the  misjudging  world  would  allow 
him  no  merit  or  talent.  The  conquest  he  had  made  over 
the  prejudices  of  the  world,  his  own  manner,  and  every 
man  who  has  come  into  competition  with  him,  none  but  ta- 
lents of  the  first  rank  could  have  accomplished." 

Besides  Bell,  there  were  two  other  very  early  friends, 
both  of  the  same  class,  over  whose  memories  it  is  grateful 
to  linger. 

James  Grahame,  author  of  the  Sabbath,  British  Georgics, 
The  Birds  of  Scotland,  and  other  Poems,  who  died  on  the 
14th  September,  1811,  was  one  of  them.  Tall,  solemn, 
large  featured,  and  very  d#rk,  he  was. not  unlike  one  of  the 
independent  preachers  of  the  commonwealth.  He  is  styled 
"sepulchral  Grahame"  by  Byron.  Neither  the  bar,  at 
which  he  practised  a  few  years,  nor  Whig  principles,  in  the 
promotion  of  which  he  was  most  ardent  (but  which  with 
him  meant  only  the  general  principles  of  liberty),  were  the 
right  vocation  of  a  pensive  nature,  whose  delight  was  in 
religion  and  poetry.  The  decline  of  his  health  deepening 
his  piety,  and  increasing  his  dislike  of  his  profession,  he 
entered  the  English  Church,  in  1808,  and  obtained  an 
humble  curacy,  with  which,  however,  he  was  perfectly  con- 
tented. With  the  softest  of  human  hearts,  his  indignation 
knew  no  bounds  when  it  was  roused  by  what  he  held  to  be 
oppression,  especially  of  animals  or  the  poor,  both  of  whom 
he  took  under  his  special  protection.  He  and  a  beggar 
seemed  always  to  be  old-friends.  The  merit  of  his  verse 
consists  in  its  expressing  the  feelings  of  his  own  heart.  It 
all  breathes  a  quiet,  musing  benevolence,  and  a  sympathy 
with  the  happiness  of  every  living  creature.  Contention, 
whether  at  the  bar  or  in  the  church,  had  no  charms  for  one 


92  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

to  whom  a  Scotch  tune  was  a  pleasure  for  a  winter  even- 
ing, and  who  could  pass  whole  summer  days  in  cultivating 
the  personal  acquaintance  of  birds  in  their  own  haunts,  and 
to  whom  nothing  was  a  luxury  that  excluded  the  etherial 
calm  of  indolence.  Yet  his  virtue  was  by  no  means  passive. 
He  was  roused  into  a  new  nature  by  abhorrence  of  cruelty, 
and  could  submit  to  any  thing  in  the  cause  of  duty.  Pro- 
fessor Wilson  published  some  lines  on  his  death,  which  owe 
their  charm,  which  is  great,  to  their  truly  expressing  the 
gentle  kindness  and  simple  piety  of  his  departed  friend. 
I  do  not  know  whether  he  or  Jeffrey  delighted  most  in  each 
other.  With  Richardson,  the  three  passed  many  a  happy 
evening  in  their  early  years.  What  did  any  of  them  find 
better  in  life  than  one  of  their  many  humble  suppers,  with 
Jeffrey's  talk,  and  Grahame's  pathetic  or  Jacobite  songs, 
and  Richardson's  flute. 

John  Macfarlan,  afterward  of  Kirkton,  was  also  .an  ad- 
vocate ;  never  in  great,  but  generally  in  very  respectable 
practice.  In  piety,  calmness,  and  Whiggism,  he  was  the 
same  with  his  friend  Grahame ;  from  whom  he  only  dif- 
fered, in  being  more  practical,  in  spite  of  a  taste  for  Ger- 
man and  metaphysics.  His  life  was  extended  till  the  18th 
of  December  1846,  when  he  died  at  the  age  of  eighty ;  his 
last  twenty  years  having  been  passed  in  the  country.  He 
was  one  of  Jeffrey's  steady  friends ;  one  of  those  friends 
with  whom  friendship  can  subsist,  and  warmly,  without  the 
aid  of  constant  intercourse.  For  in  their  walks  they  were 
a  good  deal  different,  Marfarlan  being  serious,  studious, 
and  retired.  He  had  his  own  associates,  and  shrunk  from 
no  publicity  where  he  could  do  good,  but  cared  little  for 
general  society.  What  Jeffrey,  and  all  who  knew  him, 
liked  him  for,  was,  his  kindliness  of  heart,  his  honesty,  his 
intelligence,  his  singular  simplicity,  and  his  political  firm- 
ness. It  need  not  be  told  that  he  and  Grahame  were  two 
of  the  thirty-eight.  He  was  one  of  the  few  (at  least  they 
are  fewer  than  they  should  be)  who  could  combine  the 


JOHN   MACFARLAN.  93 

deepest  personal  religion  with  absolute  toleration,  and  the 
boldest  patronage  of  the  people  with  the  steadiest  repres- 
sion of  their  extravagance.  He  never  published  except  in' 
his  old  age,  when  he  put  out  a  few  occasional  sheets  against 
prevailing  follies,  written  with  almost  apostolic  shortness 
and  fervour.  His  words  were  as  plain  as  Swift's ;  his 
thoughts,  within  his  range,  as  liberal  as  Fenelon's.  In  1834 
I  sent  one  of  his  little  pamphlets  against  strikes  and  unions 
to  Jeffrey,  who  answered,  "  John  Macfarlan's  printed  letter 
to  the  (calico)  printers  is  admirable.  I  have  sent  it  to  the 
Chancellor  and  Lord  Grey.  He  is  a  man  to  be  proud 
of."— (18th  February,  1834.) 

In  February,  1799,  Jeffrey  wrote  "  an  Analysis,  &c.,  of 
the  general  remarks  on  the  customs  and  manners  of  the 
native  inhabitants  of  New  South  Wales,  annexed  to  the 
account  of  that  colony,  by  David  Collins,  Esq.  London, 
4to,.  1798."  The  style  of  this  paper  shows  that  it  was 
meant  for  publication,  probably  in  the  Monthly  Review,  to 
which  he  was  then  an  occasional  contributor.  It  seems  to 
be  an  examination  of  the  first  part  of  Collins's  work,  of 
which  the  second  volume  was  afterward  discussed  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review  (v.  ii.  p.  30).  The  analysis  is  excellent. 

His  reading,  or  part  of  it,  during  1800,  is  attested  by  a 
bound  volume  of  150  very  closely  written  quarto  pages, 
beginning  in  January  and  ending  in  December.  It  contains 
short  critical  discussions  of  forty-eight  books  which  he  had 
been  studying,  almost  all  of  them  on  the  most  important 
and  difficult  subjects.  He  was  at  the  pains  to  make  a  re- 
gular alphabetical  index  to  the  volume;  a  thing  un- 
exampled with  him,  and  which-could  only  be  done  from  his 
idea  of  the  value  of  the  notes  and  speculations  it  contains. 
It  is  full  of  talent,  and  with,  I  suspect,  considerable  ori- 
ginality. 

During  this  summer  (1800)  he  also  attended  a  course  of 
chemical  lectures  by  Dr.  Hope,  of  which  there  remain  five 
volumes  of  notes. 


94  LIFE  OF  LORD   JEFFIU:v. 

On  the  7th  of  June,  1800,  his  youngest,  sister  was  married 
to  Dr.  Brown,  now  of  Langfyne.  This  was  a  union  from 
which  he  drew  much  happiness  throughout  his  whole  subse- 
quent life.  He  greatly  loved  his  sister,  and  was  cordially 
attached  to  her  excellent  husband,  who  was  steadily  rising 
to  the  eminence  he  afterward  attained  as  the  first  physician 
in  Glasgow,  and  always  dignified  his  practice  by  the  culti- 
vation of  other  sciences.  No  alliance  could  have  been  hap- 
pier for  all  parties. 

During  the  autumn  of  this  year,  he  and  his  friend  San- 
scrit Hamilton  planned  an  expedition  to  Germany.  "  Wo 
propose  to  make  a  philosophical  tour  into  the  southern  parts 
of  the  empire,  observing  men,  women,  and  minerals,  and 
journeying  with  the  simple  economy  of  the  sages  and  apos- 
tles of  old."  But  it  was  soon  found  that  even  this  apostolic 
pilgrimage  would  require  a  hundred  guineas,  and  "  I  have 
not  twenty  in  the  world." — (To  John,  17th  June,  1800.) 

Mrs.  Brown's  removal  left  his  father  and  him  alone.  It 
was  impossible  that  this  could  last  long.  Accordingly, 
before  the  first  two  months  were  out,  he  was  obviously 
thinking  of  a  home  for  himself,  with  a  companion  of  his 
own  choosing.  "  For  my  part,  I  have  been  doing  nothing 
for  this  last  month  with  all  my  might,  and  with  all  my 
soul.  Indeed,  I  have  been  enjoying  my  idleness  so  dili- 
gently, that  I  have  scarcely  had  resolution  to  encounter  the 
fatigues  of  going  from  home.  I  had  myself  transported 
indeed  by  water  to  St.  Andrews,  where  I  bathed,  and 
lounged,  and  fell  in  love  with  great  assiduity.  The  love 
indeed  sticks  by  me  still,  and  I  shall  go  back,  I  believe,  and 
let  it  have  its  course." — (To  John,  3d  August,  1800.) 

The  German  tour  shrunk  into  a  Highland  one,  which  I 
suppose  exhausted  the  twenty  guineas,  and  this  revived  an 
old  scheme.  "  I  have  been  so  long  exhorted  by  all  my 
friends  to  write  a  book,  that  I  have  a  great  notion  that  I 
•shall  attempt  something  of  that  kind  in  the  course  of  the 
winter.  I  have  not  been  able  to  fix  upon  any  subject  yet 


FIRST   MARRIAGE.  95 

though,  and  I  am  afraid  a  man  is  not  very  likely  to  make 
a  good  figure  who  writes,  not  because  he  has  something  to 
say,  but  who  casts  about  for  something  to  say,  because  he 
is  determined  to  write.  A  law  book  would  probably  be  of 
the  greatest  service  to  me,  but  I  have  neither  science  nor 
patience  enough,  I  suspect,  to  acquire  it." — (To  Join,  1st 
October,  1800.) 

The  book  never  appeared ;  and  he  was  again  disturbed 
by  the  old  fancies  about  England  and  India.  "  I  have 
thought,  too,  of  engaging  myself  in  the  study  of  Oriental 
literature,  and  making  myself  considerable  in  that  way,  and 
of  fifty  different  schemes  of  literary  eminence  at  home.". 
But  he  adds, — "  Within  this  while,  however,  I  will  confess 
to  you,  these  ambitious  fancies  have  lost  a  good  deal  of 
their  power  over  my  imagination,  and  I  have  accustomed 
myself  to  the  contemplation  of  a  humble  and  more  serene 
sort  of  felicity.  To  tell  you  all  in  two  words,  I  have  serious 
thoughts  of  marriage,  which  I  should  be  forced  to  abandon 
if  I  were  to  adopt  almost  any  of  the  plans  I  have  hinted 
at.  The  poor  girl,  however,  has  no  more  fortune  than  me, 
and  it  would  be  madness  nearly  to  exchange  our  empty 
hands  under  the  present  aspect  of  the  constellations." — (To 
John,  3d  January,  1801.) 

The  lady  whose  affections  he  had  thus  the  happiness  to 
engage  was  Catharine,  one  of  the  daughters  of  the  Reve- 
rend Dr.  Wilson, '  Professor  of  Church  History  at  St. 
Andrews,  a  second  cousin  of  his  own. 

In  March  this  year  (1801)  there  was  a  vacancy  in  the 
historical  chair  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  by  the 
resignation  of  Alexander  Eraser  Tytler,  Esq.,  who  had 
occupied  it  for  several  years  with  credit  to.  himself  and  to 
the  College.  The  office  was  in  the  gift  of  the  Faculty  of 
Advocates.  Some  of  Jeffrey's  friends  advised  him  to  take 
it,  if  he  could  get  it ;  and  he  himself  was  by  no  means 
averse.  His  subsequent  career  renders  it  certain  that  he 
would  have  made  it  a  splendid  course.  But  if  he  had  ap- 


96  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFBET. 

plied,  it  does  not  admit  of  a  doubt  that  party  spirit  would 
have  rejected  him.  And  there  were  other  and  wiser  friends 
who  were  against  his  undertaking  any  thing  that  tended  to 
withdraw  him  from  his  profession.  The  tortures  of  uncer- 
tainty were  not  allowed  to  be  long  endured,  either  by 
intending  candidates,  or  by  the  electors.  The  father  re- 
signed on  the  llth  of  March,  and  his  son  was  appointed 
on  the  18th  of  that  month.  - 

The  marriage  took  place  on  the  1st  November,  1801.  It 
had  all  the  recommendations  of  poverty.  His  father,  who 
was  in  humble  circumstances,  assisted  them  a  very  little ; 
but  Miss  Wilson  had  no  fortune,  and  Jeffrey  had  told  his 
brother,  only  six  months  before,  that  «  my  profession  has 
never  yet  brought  me  £100  a-year.  Yet  have  I  determined 
to  venture  upon  this  new  state.  It  shews  a  reliance  on 
Providence  scarcely  to  be  equalled  in  this  degenerate  age, 
and  indicates  such  resolutions  of  economy  as  would  terrify 
any  less  magnanimous  adventurer."  His  brother  having 
asked  him  to  describe  his  wife ;  he  did  so,  as  I  think,  who 
came  to  know  her  well,  with  great  accuracy.  "  You  ask 
me  to  describe  my  Catherine  to  you ;  but  I  have  no  talent 
for  description,  and  put  but  little  faith  in  full  drawn  cha- 
racters ;  besides,  the  original  is  now  so  much  a  part  of 
myself,  that  it  would  not  be  decent  to  enlarge  very  much, 
either  upon  her  excellences  or  her  imperfections.  It  is 
proper,  however,  to  tell  you,  in  sober  earnest,  that  she  is 
not  a  showy  or  remarkable  girl,  either  in  person  or  charac- 
ter. She  has  good  sense,  good  manners,  good  temper,  and 
good  hands  ;  and  above  all,  I  am  perfectly  sure  that  she 
has  a  good  heart,  and  that  it  is  mine  without  reluctance  or 
division."  She  ^oon  secured  the  respect  and  esteem  of  all 
his  friends,  and  made  her  house,  and  its  society,  very  agree- 
able. 

Their  first  home  was  in  Buccleuch  Place,  one  of  the  new 
parts  of  the  old  town  ;  not  in  either  the  eighth  or  the  ninth 
stories,  neither  of  which  ever  existed,  but  in  the  third 


HIS   FIRST   HOME.  97 

story,  of  what  is  now  No.  18  of  the  street.  His  domestic 
arrangements  were  set  about  with  that  honourable  economy 
which  always  enabled  him  to  practise  great  generosity. 
There  is  a  sheet  of  paper  containing  an  inventory,  in  his 
own  writing,  of  every  article  of  furniture  that  he  went  the 
length  of  getting,  with  the  prices.  His  own  study  was 
only  made  comfortable  at  the  cost  of  £1  18s. ;  the  banquet- 
ing hall  rose  to  £13  8s.,  and  the  drawing-room  actually 
amounted  to  .£22  19s. 

During  part  of  next  winter,  (1800  and  1801,)  he  attended 
the  second  course  of  lectures  delivered  by  Dugald  Stewart 
on  Political  Economy,  of  which  he  has  left  five  small  vo- 
lumes of  notes.  It  was  there  that  I  first  got  acquainted 
with  him.  I  had  seen  him  before  in  the  court,  and  had 
both  seen  and  heard  him  in  the  Speculative  Society,  and 
must  have  occasionally  spoken  to  him.  But  it  was  at  this 
class  that  I  began  to  know  him.  Our  ways  home  were  the 
same,  and  we  always  walked  together.  I  remember  being 
struck  with  his  manner,  and  delighted  by  his  vivacity  and 
kindness.  From  that  time  we  were  never  for  a  moment 
estranged. 

In  May,  1802,  he  took  up  his  second  abode  in  the  upper 
story  of  what  is  now,  as  it  was  then,  No.  62  Queen  Street. 
It  brought  him  nearer  his  friends,  and  gave  him  a  beautiful 
prospect. 

His  first  professional  speech  that  I  remember  was  made 
that  month  in  the  General  Assembly.  It  was  in  a  cause 
which,  however  important- to  the  parties  and  the  church 
courts,  was  in  itself  paltry.  But  it  made  a  little  noise  in 
its  hour,  chiefly  from  Jeffrey's  appearance  in  it.  "  My 
professional  employment  is  increasing,  too,  a  little,  I  think, 
and  I  rather  believe  that  my  reputation  as  a  man  of  busi- 
ness stands  somewhat  higher  than  it  used  to  do.  I  have 
made  a  speech  in  the  General  Assembly  about  six  weeks 
ago  that  has  done  me  some  good,  I  believe.  The  speech 
seemed  to  me  at  the  time  to  be  very  middling,  and  certain- 
G  9 


98  I.I  IK   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

ly  cost  me  no  exertion  whatsoever  ;  but  I  find  it  spoken  of 
in  many  quarters,  and  have  received  congratulations  from 
my  friends  as  if  it  was  to  make  me  very  advantageously 
known."— (To  John,  26th  June,  1802.) 

There  were  no  regular  reporters  of  the  decisions  of  the 
court  at  this  period,  except  two  advocates,  who  held  the 
performance  of  that  task  as  an  office,  to  which  they  were 
elected  by  their  brethren.  They  were  paid  by  a  small 
ealary,  which  arose  from  the  sale  of  the  annual  volume.  It 
was  always  conferred  on  juniors;  and,  as  by  an  absurd 
deference  of  the  reporters,  and  an  incomprehensible  aver- 
sion on  the  bench,  the  opinions  of  the  judges  were  scarcely 
ever  given,  it  was  neither  so  difficult  nor  so  important  a 
task  as  it  has  since  become.  In  the  summer  of  1801  both 
collectorships  were  vacant.  Jeffrey  presented  himself  to 
his  brethren  as  a  candidate  for  one  of  them,  and  had  the 
honour  of  being  proposed  by  Henry  Erskine.  But  upon 
the  10th  of  July  he  was  rejected  -by  a  large  majority.  His 
two  opponents  were  younger  than  him,  and,  however  excel- 
lent and  fit  for  the  place,  certainly  had  not  his  reputation. 
But  qualification  had  little  to  do  with  the  matter.  It  was 
made  a  mere  party  question. 

The  election  was  connected  with  one  painful  occurrence, 
which  distressed  him  for  many  years.  There  was  some 
business  relation  between  his  father  and  Sir  William  Mil- 
ler, Bart.,  who  was  a  judge,  and  known,  from  his  estate's 
name,  as  Lord  Glenlee.  This  had  led  his  lordship  to  no- 
tice Frank  Jeffrey  while  very  young,  and,  seeing  his  talents, 
to  have  him  a  good  deal  about  him.  But  as  the  youth  grew 
up,  and  his  political  principles  began  to  disclose  themselves, 
his  lordship's  taste  for  him  did  not  increase,  and  their  in- 
tercourse became  less  frequent.  Glenlee  had  no  vote  in  the 
election,  but  it  was  thought  that  he  might  have  some  influ- 
ence, and  as  there  was  no  avowed  rupture,  Jeffrey  asked  him 
to  exert  it  on  his  behalf.  But  his  lordship  took  this  occa- 
sion to  tell  him  plainly  that,  in  consequence  of  his  politics, 


LORD  GLENLEE.  99 

he  could  befriend  him  no  more.  They  parted,  and  scarcely 
exchanged  words  for  nearly  thirty  years.  Jeffrey  was  Lord 
Advocate  before  he  was  allowed  to  renew  the  old  acquaint- 
ance. He  did  so  then,  and  with  great  pleasure ;  for 
throughout  this  long  alienation  he  had  never  uttered  one 
word  about  his  early  patron  but  in  respect  and  gratitude. 
So  far  as  I  know,  this  was  the  solitary  eclipse  by  which 
any  friendship  of  Jeffrey's  was  ever  obscured. 

He  regretted  it  the  more  from  his  great  admiration  of 
Glenlee,  who  was  a  very  able  and  a  very  singular  man. 
After  a  short  course  of  early  travel,  and  an  abortive  at- 
tempt in  parliament,  he  settled  at  the  bar,  and  devoted  the 
rest  of  his  long  life  entirely  to  study.  He  was  made  a 
judge  when  Still  young,  and  after  so  little  practice  that  he 
had  to  learn  his  law  on  the  bench.  Talent  and  industry, 
however,  soon  placed  him  high  among  profound  and  learned 
lawyers.  But  though  deep  in  legal  knowledge,  and  most 
ingenious  in  its  application,  law  was  not  the  highest  of  his 
spheres.  His  favourite  and  most  successful  pursuit  was 
mathematics ;  on  which  John  Playfair,  a  very  competeujt 
judge,  used  to  say  that  he  had  original  speculations,  which, 
if  given  to  the  world,  would  have  raised  him  to  an  eminent 
place  among  the  best  modern  contributors  to  that  science. 
Next  to  this  was  his  classical  learning,  which  gradually 
extended  to  a  general,  but  pretty  accurate,  acquaintance 
with  the  languages  and  literature  of  France,  Spain,  and 
Italy,  and,  in  his  extreme  old  age,  of  Germany.  There 
is  not  much  that  could  be  added  to  the  attainments  of  a 
man  who  was  great  in  mathematics,  literature,  and  juris- 
prudence. 

His  conversation,  as  described  by  the  two  or  three  frienda 
who  were  his  world,  was  full  of  thought  and  curious  origi- 
nal views ;  and  it  was  this  that  chiefly  attracted  Jeffrey. 
A  lover  of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  and  with  a  memory 
tenacious  of  the  substance  of  truth,  he  not  only  systemati- 
cally augmented  his  learning,  but  continued  the  improve- 


100  LIFE   OF   LOUD  JEFFREY. 

ment  even  of  his  faculties,  when  far  beyond  the  period  of 
life  at  which  the  mental  powers  begin,  or  are  generally 
permitted  to  decline.  Jeffrey  visited  him  at  his  country- 
seat  in  August,  1842,  when  he  was  eighty-seven,  and  wrote 
to  a  friend  that  "  He  is  very  deaf  and  walks  feebly,  but 
his  mind  is  as  entire  and  vigorous  as  ever.  When  I  came 
in  he  was  in  the  middle  of  a  great  new  treatise  on  the 
properties  of  the  Ellipse,  which  he  had  just  got  from 
Germany."  His  public  feelings  were  miserably  narrow. 
Indeed,  on  political  matters  his  mind  never  made  any  pro- 
gress, except  perhaps  in  being  easier  under  its  illiberality, 
since  he  withdrew  into  his  learned  cell.  Too  fastidious 
and  too  comfortable  for  publication,  he  neither  gave  nor 
(so  far  as  it  appears)  left  any  thing  to  the  world.  And 
thus  he  has  gone  without  rearing  any  memorial  to  himself, 
except  the  inadequate  one  that  is  furnished  by  the  law 
reports;  and  even  in  giving  judicial  opinions,  depth,  bre- 
vity, and  an  odd  delivery,  made  his  excellences  less  per- 
ceptible than  those  of  far  inferior  men. 
,  His  appearance  was  striking,  and  very  expressive  of  his 
intellect  and  habits.  The  figure  was  slender  ;  the  counte- 
nance pale,  but  with  a  full,  dark  eye  ;  the  features  regular, 
unless  when  disturbed,  as  his  whole  frame  often  was,  by 
little  jerks  and  gesticulations,  as  if  he  was  under  frequent 
galvanism  ;  his  air  and  manner  polite.  Every  thing  indi- 
cated the  philosophical  and  abstracted  gentleman.  And 
another  thing  which  added  to  his  peculiarity  was,  that  he 
never  used  an  English  word  when  a  Scotch  one  could  be 
got.  He  died  in  1846,  in  his  ninety-first  year. 

Whatever  this  rejection  proved  to  the  party  from  which 
it  proceeded,  it  was  to  Jeffrey  personally  a  most  fortunate 
occurrence.  It  has  been  supposed,  that  if  he  had  been 
allowed  to  waste  himself  in  the  obscure  labour  of  reporting, 
the  Edinburgh  Review  might  never  have  been  heard  of. 
There  is  little  probability  in  this  opinion ;  but  undoubtedly  a 
very  sjight  measure  of  professional  employment  would  have 


THE    EDINBURGH    REVIEW.  101 

prevented  him  from  having  much  connection  .with  it.  This 
exclusion  increased  his  despair  of  success  in  the  law,  and 
co-operated  with  his  literary  ambition  in  leading  him  into 
the  scheme  and  management  of  that  great  work,  with  which 
his  name  is  now  permanently  associated,  which  for  the 
next  twenty-seven  years  became  the  principal  business  of 
his  life.  . 

Mr.  Smith's  account  of  the  origin  of  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view is  this : — "  One  day  we  happened  to  meet  in  the 
eighth  or  ninth  story,  or  flat,  in  Buccleuch  Place,  the  ele- 
vated residence  of  the  then  Mr.  Jeffrey.  I  proposed  that  we 
should  set  up  a  Review ;  this  was  acceded  to  with  acclama- 
tion. I  was  appointed  editor,  and  remained  long  enough 
in  Edinburgh  to  edit  the  first  number  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review." — (Preface  to  Smith's  Works.) 

The  merit  of  having  first  suggested  the  work  is  undoubt- 
edly due  to  Mr.  Smith.  He  himself  claims  it  in  the  preced- 
ing words,  and  to  those  acquainted  with  his  character  this  is 
sufficient.  But  Jeffrey  admits  it.  His  "  Oontributions"  are 
dedicated  to  Mr.  Smith,  expressly  as  "  The  Original  Pro- 
jector of  the  Edinburgh  Review."  And  no  other  person  has 
ever  come  forward  to  dispute  the-  fact.  Whatever  credit, 
therefore,  attaches  to  the  first  announced  idea  of  the  under- 
taking, it  belongs  to  Mr.  Smith.  But  his  statement  might 
make  it  appear  that  the  resolution  to  begin  it  was  sudden 
and  accidental,  and  as  if  it  had  occurred  and  been  acted 
upon  at  once  at  that  casual  meeting.  But  probably  all  that 
is  meant  is,  that  it  was  then  that  the  matter  was  brought  to 
a  practical  conclusion.  Because  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that 
such  an  undertaking  could  have  been  determined  upon,  on 
the  suggestion  of  a  moment,  and  without  previous  calcula- 
tion and  arrangement.  Accordingly,  Jeffrey  never  ascribed 
more  to  this  meeting  than  that  it  was  there  that  they  had 
their  "first  serious  consultations  about  it"  It  happened 
to  be  a  tempestuous  evening,  and  I  have  heard  him  say  that 
they  had  some  merriment  at  the  greater  storm  they  were 

9* 


102  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

about  to  raise.  There  were  circumstances  that  tended  so 
directly  toward  the  production  of  some  such  work,  that  it 
seems  now  as  if  its  appearance  in  Edinburgh,  and  about  this 
time,  might  almost  have  been  foreseen.  Of  these  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  mention  the  irrepressible  passion  for  discussion 
which  succeeded  the  fall  of  old  systems  on  the  French  Revo- 
lution ;  the  strong  feeling  of  resentment  at  our  o.wn  party 
intolerance  ;  the  obviousness  that  it  was  only  through  the 
press  that  this  intolerance  could  be  abated,  or  our  policy 
reformed ;  the  dotage  of  all  the  existing  journals  ;  and  the 
presence,  in  this  place,  of  the  able  young  men  who  have 
been  mentioned,  most  of  them  in  close  alliance,  and  to 
whom  concealed  authorship  was  an  irresistible  vent. 

The  most  important  of  these  were  Jeffrey,  Smith, 
Brougham,  and  Homer.  Very  few  of  them  contemplated 
letters  or  politics  as  the  business  of  their  lives,  but  they  were 
all  eager  for  distinction,  and  for  the  dissemination  of  what 
they,  in  their  various  walks,  thought  important  truth ;  and 
they  were  then  all  masters  of  their  own  time.*  A  review 
combined  all  the  recommendations  that  could  tempt  such 
persons  into  print.  Of  all  the  forms  of  addressing  the 
public,  it  is  the  one  which  presents  the  strongest  allure- 
ments to  those  who  long  for  the  honours,  without  the  ha- 
zards, of  authorship.  It  invites  every  variety  of  intellect ; 
it  does  not  chain  its  contributors  to  long  courses  of  labour; 
it  binds  no  one  to  do  more  than  he  pleases ;  it  shrouds  each 
in- the  anonymous  mystery,  which  each  is  so  apt  to  derive 
a  second  gratification  by  removing ;  it  exalts  each  into  an 
invisible  chair  of  public  censorship,  and  pleases  his  self- 
importance  or  his  love  of  safety,  by  showing  him,  unseen, 
the  effect  of  his  periodical  lightning.  A  publication  that 

*  Their  youth,  though  it  was  one  of  the  established  grounds  of  the 
pretended  contempt  of  their  opponents,  was  by  no  means  excessive. 
Allen,  in  1802,  was  thirty-two,  Smith  thirty-one,  Jeffrey  twenty-nine, 
Brown  twenty-four,  Homer  twenty-four,  Brougham  twenty-three.  Ex- 
cellent ages  for  such  work. 


THE    EDINBURGH    REVIEW.  103 

subsists  by  successions  of  temporary  excitement  is  not 
always  favourable  to  habits  of  patient  inquiry,  or  accurate 
and  temperate  statement.  But  this  is  only  when  it  falls 
into  rash  or  unconscientious  hands.  Honesty  and  pru- 
dence have  often  produced  as  dispassionate  and  well-con- 
sidered discussions  in  reviews,  as  any  that  could  be  slowly 
elaborated  by  a  responsible  name  in  an  acknowledged  vo- 
lume. But,  at  any  rate,  how  strong  were  the  seductions 
of  brilliancy,  ridicule,  or  severity,  to  a  knot  of  friends, 
•whose  pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  their  powers  was  not 
likely  to  be  checked  either  by  reflecting  on  its  effects  upon 
themselves,  or  by  too  much  sympathy  with  the  victims  of 
their  critical  vigour. 

If  the  rest  who  first  planned  this  work  had  been  left  to 
their  own  inexperience,  they  would  probably  have  been  at 
a  loss  how  to  proceed.  But  they  plainly  leant  upon  Jef- 
frey, who  had  not  merely  been  engaged  in  the  study  of 
criticism  all  his  life,  but  had  reduced  his  study  to  practice. 
He  had  already  got  several  papers  published  in  the  existing 
journals.  Some  of  them,  though  not  specified,  are  alluded 
to  in  his  letters,  but  (so  far  as  I  know)  only  three  of  them 
can  be  authenticated.  Two  of  them  are  on  Winter's  Ety- 
mologicon  Magnum,  which  were  published  in  June  and 
July,  1802,  in  the  Monthly  Review.  He  describes  these  in  a 
letter  to  his  brother,  (1st  August,  1802,)  as  "  too  elaborate, 
but  quite  sound  in  argument."  The  third  was  a  discussion 
of  Thalaba,  which  he  sent  to  that  journal  before  the  Edin- 
burgh Review  was  resolved  upon,  though  by  some  accident 
it  was  not  published  there  till  November,  which  was  subse- 
quent to  the  appearance  of  his  article  on  Thalaba  in  the 
Edinburgh.  His  having  written  these  papers  was  known 
to  his  friends,  who,  though  he  was  not  at  first  their  formal 
editor,  leant  mainly  on  his  experience  and  wisdom. 

And  the  field  was  open  to  their  conquest.  There  had 
been  no. critical  journal  in  Scotland  since  the  days  of  the 
original  "Edinburgh  Review"  the  first  number  of  which 


101  LIFE   OF   LORD   JWFREY. 

was  published  in  January,  1755,  and  the  second  and  last 
in  January,  1756.* 

There  were  reviews  in  England  ;  but,  though  respectable 
according  to  the  notions  at  that  time  of  critical  respecta- 
bility, they  merely  languished  in  decent  feebleness.  In- 
deed, the  circumstance  of  their  almost  restricting  themselves 
to  the  examination  of  books,  exclusively  of  public  measures 
and  principles,  narrowed  the  range  of  their  criticism,  and 
congealed  its  spirit. 

It  was  intended  to  have  published  the  first  number  in 
June,  1802,  but  it  was  put  off  for  some  months.  During 
this  pause,  Jeffrey's  expectations  of  its  success,  if  a  few 
passages  in  his  letters  can  be  relied  on,  were  not  high. 
"  Our  Review  has  been  postponed  till  September,  and  I 
am  afraid  will  not  go  on  with  much  spirit  even  then.  Per- 
haps we  have  omitted  the  tide  that  was  in  our  favour.  We 
are  bound  for  a  year  to  the  booksellers,  and  shall  drag 
through  that,  I  suppose,  for  our  own  indemnification." 
—(To  Mr.  Morehead,  24th  May,  1802.) 

"  Our  Review  is  still  at  a  stand.  However,  I  have  com- 
pletely abandoned  the  idea  of  taking  any  permanent  share 
in  it,  and  shall  probably  desert  after  fulfilling  my  eugage- 

*  This  first  Edinburgh  Review  contains  a  slight  article  by  Adam  Smith 
on  Johnson^  Dictionary,  and  an  excellent  letter,  ascribed  to  Smith,  on 
the  inexpediency  of  confining  the  journal  to  Scotch  publications.  The 
conductors,  in  that  innocent  age  of  reviewing,  profess  to  be  guided  by 
principles  which  must  please  some  of  those  gentle  spirits  who  used  to  be 
shocked  by  what  they  deemed  the  virulence  of  the  new  Edinburgh  jour- 
nal. "They  are  to  judge  with  candour,  but  with  freedom.  Opinions 
they  are  only  to  relate,  not  to  combat."  "  Immoralities  they  would  rather 
choose  to  bury  in  oblivion."  "  They  expect  no  praise  to  themselves,  for  a  work 
in  which  to  be  useful  is  their  only  design,"  &c.  It  will  gratify  the  mo- 
dern reviewer  to  learn  that  their  very  first  number  contains  this  specimen 
of  their  tenderness: — "  We  are  almost  ashamed  to  say  we  have  read  this 
pamphlet.  'Tis  such  a  low  scurrilous  libel,  that  even  the  most  necessi- 
tous printer  or  publisher  must  be  at  a  loss  for  finding  a  dec'ent  excuse 
for  publishing  it." 


THE  EDINBURGH  REVIEW.  105 

ments,  which  only  extend  to  a  certain  contribution  for  the 
first  four  numbers.  I  suspect  that  the  work  itself  will  not 
have  a  much  longer  life.  I  believe  we  shall  come  out  in 
October,  and  have  no  sort  of  doubt  of  making  a  respectable 
appearance,  though  we  may  not  perhaps  either  obtain  popu- 
larity, or  deserve  it." — (To  John,  26th  June,  1802.) 

Nobody  who  knew  Jeffrey  well,  would  have  expected  him 
to  augur  favourably  of  it,  because  favourable  augury  was 
rather  rare  with  him.  He  calls  himself  "  a  Pessimist."  It 
is  difficult  to  understand  how  this  could  be  the  habit  of  so 
cheerful  a  temperament,  and  so  sound  a  judgment.  Were 
it  possible  to  suspect  so  sincere  a  person  of  making  prepa- 
rations against  the  imputation  of  foolish  confidence  by  sys- 
tematic professions  of  fear,  it  might  be  suspected  that 
distrust  of  futurity  was  a  defensive  principle  of  his.  But 
he  was  far  too  candid  for  any  such  scheme.  He  really  be- 
lieved that  most  grand  projects  fail ;  and  therefore,  having 
little  sympathy  with  the  sanguine,  he  had  a  pleasure  in 
refuting  their  demonstrations,  and  provoked  himself  into 
doubt  by  the  exercise  of  assailing  their  infallibilities.  But 
whatever  the  explanation  may  be,  the  fact  is,  that  in  his 
calculation  of  human  contingencies,  he  was  generally  in  a 
state  of  lively  argumentative  despair.  There  was  no  cloud 
over  the  spirits.  It  was  merely  a  taste  that  he  had  for 
extracting  grounds,  out  of  existing  circumstances,  for  pre- 
dicting failure  rather  than  success  : — "  For  my  own  part, 
I  am  much  inclined  to  despair  still,  though  I  cannot  help 
confessing  that  I  am  as  gay  and  foolish  through  the  twenty- 
four  hours  as  I  used  to  be." — (To  Homer,  23d  July,  1803.) 
"I  look  enough  at  the  bright  side  of  things  ; — I  mean  ha- 
bitually, and  referably  to  my  own  little  concerns; — so 
much  so  that  it  is  really  an  effort  for  me  to  look  at  any  thing 
else.  But  it  is  an  effort  which  I  start  every  now  and  then 
to  think  how  I  can  decline  so  completely  and  theoretically. 
I  am  very  much  in  a  state  of  despair,  while  I  have  scarcely 
any  actual  anxiety." — (To  Malthus,  1st  April,  1811.) 


10G  *      LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

At  last,  on  the  10th  of  October,  1802,  the  first  number 
of  the  Edinburgh  Review  appeared.  Besides  several  other 
articles,  it  contained  seven  by  Smith,  four  by  Homer,  four 
commonly  ascribed  to  Lord  Brougham,  and  five  by  Jeffrey, 
one  of  which,  upon  Mourier  on  the  influence  of  the  French 
Revolution,  began  the  work. 

The  effect  was  electrical.  And  instead  of  expiring,  as 
many  wished,  in  their  first  effort,  the  force  of  the  shock  was 
increased  on  each  subsequent  discharge.  It  is  impossible 
for  those  who  did  not  live  at  the  time,  and  in  the  heart  of 
the  scene,  to  feel,  or  almost  to  understand  the  impression 
made  by  the  new  luminary,  or  the  anxieties  with  which  its 
motions  were  observed.  It  was  an  entire  and  instant 
change  of  every  thing  that  the  public  had  been  accustomed 
to  in  that  sort  of  composition.  The  old  periodical  opiates 
were  extinguished  at  once.  The  learning  of  the  new  jour- 
nal, its  talent,  its  spirit,  its  writing,  its  independence,  were 
all  new ;  and  the  surprise  was  increased  by  a  work  so  full 
of  public  life  springing  up,  suddenly,  in  a  remote  part  of 
the  kingdom.  Different  classes  soon  settled  into  their  dif- 
ferent views  of  it.  Its  literature,  its  political  economy,  and 
its  pure  science  were  generally  admired.  Many  thoughtful 
men,  indifferent  to  party,  but  anxious  for  the  progress  of 
the  human  mind,  and  alarmed  lest  war  and  political  confu- 
sion should  restore  a  new  course  of  dark  ages,  were  cheered 
by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  what-  seemed  likely  to 
prove  a  great  depository  for  the  contributions  of  able  men 
to  the  cause  of  philosophy.  Its  political  opinions  made  it 
be  received  by  one  party  with  demonstrations  of  its  iniqui- 
ty, with  confident  prophecies  of  the  impossibility  of  so 
scandalous  a  publication  lasting,  much  pretended  derision, 
and  boundless  abuse  of  its  audacious  authors.  On  the  op- 
posite side,  it  was  hailed  as  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day.  It 
was  not  merely  the  intelligent  championship  of  their  prin- 
ciples that  those  on  that  side  saw  apparently  secured,  but 
the  far  higher  end,  that  reason  would  be  heard.  The 


PUBLICATION    OF   THE   REVIEW.  107 

splendid  career  of  the  journal,  as  it  was  actually  run,  was 
not  anticipated,  either  by  its  authors  or  by  its  most  ardent 
admirers ;  none  of  whom  could  foresee  its  long  endurance, 
or  the  extent  to  which  the  mighty  improvements  that  have 
reformed  our  opinions  and  institutions,  and  enabled  us  to 
engraft  the  wisdom  of  experience  on  the  maintainable  an- 
tiquities of  our  system,  were  to  depend  on  this  single  pub- 
lication. They  only  saw  the  present  establishment  of  an 
organ  of  the  highest  order,  for  the  able  and  fearless  discus- 
sion of  every  matter  worthy  of  being  inquired  into ;  but 
they  could  not  then  discern  its  consequences. 

Nowhere  was  its  pillar  of  fire  watched  with  greater  in- 
tensity than  in  Scotland,  where  the  constitutional  wilderness 
was  the  darkest.  Many  years  had  to  pass  before  it  could 
effect  actual  reform  ;  but  it  became  clearer  every  day  that 
a  generation  was  forming  by  which  the  seed  sowing  by  this 
work  must  at  last  be  reaped.  To  Edinburgh  in  particular 
it  was  of  especial  benefit.  It  extended  the  literary  repu- 
tation of  the  place,  and  connected  it  with  public  affairs,  and 
made  its  opinions  important.  All  were  the  better  of  a 
journal  to  which  every  one  with  an  object  of  due  import- 
ance had  access,  which  it  was  in  vain  either  to  bully  or  to 
despise,  and  of  the  fame  of  which  even  its  reasonable  haters 
were  inwardly  proud. 

It  was  distinguished  in  its  outset  from  similar  publica- 
tions by  its  being  kept  quite  independent  of  booksellers, 
and  by  the  high  prices  soon  paid  for  articles.  The  first 
kept  its  managers  free ;  the  second  gave  them  the  com- 
mand of  nearly  all  the  talent  in  the  market.  Yet  for  the 
first  two  or  three  numbers  they  had  an  idea,  that  such  a 
work  could  be  carried  on  without  remunerating  the  writers 
at  all.  It  was  to  be  all  gentlemen,  and  no  pay.  And  it 
was  during  this  state  of  matters  that  Jeffrey  doubted  its 
success,  and  meant  to  have  a  very  short  connection  with  it. 
But  this  blunder  was  soon  corrected  by  a  magnificent  re- 
currence to  the  rule  of  common  sense.  Mr.  Constable,  who 


108  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

was  their  publisher,  though  unfortunate  in  the  end,  was  the 
most  spirited  bookseller  that  had  ever  appeared  in  Scot- 
land. Yet  even  he  seems  at  one  time  to  have  been  doubt- 
ful of  the  permanent  success  of  the  work,  for  Mr.  Smith 
gave  him  the  following  advice,  in  a  letter  which  is  not 
dated,  but  must  have  been  written  within  the  first  year  of 
the  Review's  existence  : — "  Sir,  You  ask  me  for  my  opinion 
about  the  continuation  of  the  E.  Review.  I  have  the 
greatest  confidence  in  giving  it  you,  as  I  find  everybody 
here  (who  is  capable  of  forming  an  opinion  upon  the  sub- 
ject) unanimous  in  the  idea  of  its  success,  and  in  the  hope 
of  its  continuation.  It  is  notorious  that  all  the  cpviews  are 
the  organs  either  of  party  or  of  booksellers.  I  have  no 
manner  of  doubt  that  an  able,  intrepid,  and  independent 
review  would  be  as  useful  to  the  public  as  it  would  be  pro- 
fitable to  those  who  are  engaged  in  it.  If  you  will  give 
£200  per  annum  to  your  editor,  and  ten  guineas  a  sheet, 
you  will  soon  have  the  best  review  in  Europe.  This  town, 
I  am  convinced,  is  preferable  to  all  others  for  such  an  un- 
dertaking, from  the  abundance  of  literary  men  it  contains, 
and  from  the  freedom  which  at  this  distance  they  can  exer- 
cise towards  the  wits  of  the  south.  The  gentlemen  who 
first  engaged  in  this  review  will  find  it  too  laborious  for 
pleasure ;  as  labour,  I  am  sure  they  will  not  meddle  with  it 
for  a  less  valuable  offer. — I  remain,  Sir,  your  obedt.  humble 
sert."  &c. 

"  P.S. — I  do  not,  by  the  expressions  I  have  used  above, 
mean  to  throw  any  censure  on  the  trade  for  undertaking 
reviews.  Every  one  for  himself ;  God  for  all.  It  is  fair 
-enough  that  a  bookseller  should  guide  the  public  to  his  own 
shop.'  And  fair  enough  that  a  critic  should  tell  the  public 
they  are  going  astray." 

The  sagacious  Homer  recorded  his  opinion  at  the  time 
of  the  credit  which  this  publication  would  do  Jeffrey,  by 
the  following  entry  in  his  private  journal :  "  Jeffrey  is  the 
person  who  will  derive  most  honour  from  this  publication, 


PUBLICATION   OF   THE   REVIEW.  109 

as  his  articles  in  this  number  are  generally  known,  and  are 
incomparably  the  best.  I  have  received  the  greater  plea- 
sure from  this  circumstance,  because  the  genius  of  that 
little  man  has  remained  almost  unknown  to  all  but  his 
most  intimate  acquaintances.  His  manner  is  not  at  first 
pleasing ;  what  is  worse,  it  is  of  that  cast  which  almost 
irresistibly  impresses  upon  strangers  the  idea  of  levity  and 
superficial  talents.  Yet  there  is  not  any  man  whose  real 
character  is  so  much  the  reverse.  He  has  indeed  a  very 
sportive  and  playful  fancy,  but  it  is  accompanied  with  an 
extensive  and  varied  information,  with  a  readiness  of  ap- 
prehension almost  intuitive,  with  judicious  and  calm  dis- 
cernment, with  a  profound  and  penetrating  understanding." 
A  character  drawn  with  great  truth,  and  a  prediction 
amply  confirmed. 

Many  accounts  have  been  given  of  the -organization  by 
which  the  work  was  launched  and  piloted  ;  but  they  are  all 
superseded  by  the  following  explanation,  written  by  Jeffrey 
in  November,  1846,  in  answer  to  a  question  put  by  Mr. 
Robert  Chambers,  to  whom  and  to  his  brother  William,  the 
public,  and  especially  the  poor,  have  been  so  deeply  in- 
debted for  those  judicious  and  cheap  publications  which 
have  so  long  instructed  and  tended  to  elevate  the  people  :* 
— "  I  cannot  say  exactly  where  the  project  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review  was  first  talked  of  among  the  projectors;  but 
the  first  serious  consultations  about  it,  and  which  led  to  our 
application  to  a  publisher,  were  held  in  a  small  house  where 
I  then  lived  in  Buccleuch  Place.  (I  forget  the  number.) 
They  were  attended  by  Sidney  Smith,  F.  Homer,  Dr.  Tho- 
mas Brown,  Lord  Murray,  and  some  of  them  also  by  Lord 
Webb  Seymour,  Dr.  John  Thomson,  and  Thomas  Thomson. 
The  first  three  numbers  were  given  to  the  publisher — he 
taking  the  risk  and  defraying  the  charges.  There  was 
then  no  individual  editor ;  but  as  many  of  us  as  could  be 

0 

*  This  Paper  has  been  more  than  once  published  before  now. 
10 


110  LIFE   OF  LOUD      EFFRBY. 

got  to  attend,  used  tQ-jneet  in  a  dingy  room  off  Willison's 
printing  office,  in  Craig's  Close,  where  the  proofs  of  our 
own  articles  were  read  over  and  remarked  upon,  and  at- 
tempts made  also  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  few  manuscripts 
•which  were  then  afforded  by  strangers.  But  we  had 
seldom  patience  to  go  through  with  these,  and  it  was  found 
necessary  to  have  a  responsible  editor,  and  the  office  was 
pressed  upon  me.  About  the  same  time,  Constable  was 
told  that  he  must  allow  ten  guineas  a  sheet  to  the  contri- 
butors, to  which  he  at  once  assented ;  and  not  long  after, 
the  minimum  was  raised  to  sixteen  guineas,  at  which  it  re- 
mained during  my  reign,  though  two-thirds  of  the  articles 
were  paid  much  higher — averaging,  I  should  think,  from 
twenty  to  twenty-five  guineas  a  sheet  on  the  whole  number. 
I  had,  I  might  say,  an  unlimited  discretion  in  this  respect, 
and  must  do  the  publishers  the  justice  to  say  that  they 
never  made  the  slightest  objection.  Indeed,  as  we  all  knew 
that  they  had  (for  a  long  time  at  least)  a  very  great  profit, 
they  probably  felt  that  they  were  at  our  mercy.  Smith 
was  by  far  the  most  timid  of  the  confederacy,  and  believed 
that  unless  our  incognito  was  strictly  maintained,  we  could 
not  go  on  a  day.  And  this  was  his  object  for  making  us 
hold  our  dark  divans  at  Willison's  office,  to  which  he  in- 
sisted on  our  repairing  singly,  and  by  back  approaches,  or 
by  different  lanes ! !  He  also  had  so  strong  an  impression 

of 's  indiscretion  and  rashness,  that  he  would  not  let 

him  be  a  member  of  our  association,  though  wished  for 
by  all  the  rest.  He  was  admitted,  however,  after  the  third 
number,  and  did  more  work  for  us  than  anybody.  Brown 
took  offence  at  some  alteration  Smith  had  made  in  a  trifling 
article  of  his  in  the  second  number,  and  finally  left  us, 
thus  early — publishing  at  the  same  time  in  a  magazine  the 
fact  of  his  secession,  a  step  which  we  all  deeply  regretted, 
and  thought  scarcely  justified  by  the  provocation.  Nothing 
of  the  kind  occurred  ever  after." 

Tn  saying  that  "  there  was  no  individual  editor,"  he  does 


EDITOR  OF  THE   REVIEW.  Ill 

not  mean  to  throw  the  slightest  doubt  on  Mr.  Smith's  state- 
ment, (p.  101,)  that  he  (Smith)  edited  the  first  number, — 
but  only  that  though  Mr.  Smith  did  so  actually,  it  was  not 
done  in  the  capacity  of  an  official  editor,  formally  appointed. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  and  applause  of  this 
work,  he  was  saddened  by  the  prospect  of  soon  losing  the 
society  of  some  of  the  more  eminent  friends  with  whom  he 
had  embarked  in  it.  "  I  foresee  the  likelihood  of  our  being 
all  scattered  before  another  year  shall  be  over,  and  of 
course  the  impossibility  of  going  on,  on  the  footing  upon 
which  we  have  begun.  Indeed,  few  things  have  given  me 
more  vexation  of  late  than  the  prospect  of  the  dissolution 
of  that  very  pleasant  and  animated  society  in  which  I  have 
spent  so  much  of  my  time  for  the  last  four  years ;  and  I 
am  really  inclined  to  be  very  sad  when  I  IOOK  forward  to 
the  time  when  I  shall  be  deserted  by  all  the  friends  and 
companions  who  possessed  much  of  my  confidence  and  es- 
teem. You  are  translated  into  England  already.  Homer 
goes  to  the  English  bar  in  a  year.  S.  Smith  leaves  this 
country  for  ever,  about  the  same  time.  Hamilton  spends 
his  life  abroad  as  soon  as  his  father's  death  sets  him  at 
liberty.  Brougham  will  most  probably  push  into  public 
life  even  before  a  similar  event  gives  him  a  favourable 
opportunity.  Reddie  is  lost,  and  absolutely  swallowed  up, 
in  law.  Lord  Webb  leaves  this  before  winter.  Jo.  Allan 
goes  abroad  with  Lord  Holland  immediately.  Adam  is 
gone  already,  and,  except  Brown  and  John  Murray,  I  do 
not  think  that  one  of  the  associates  with  whom  I  have  spe- 
culated and  amused  myself,  will  be  left  with  me  in  the 
course  of  eighteen  months.  It  is  not  easy  to  form  new  inti- 
macies, and  I  know  enough  of  the  people  among  whom  I 
must  look  down  for  them,  to  be  positive  that  they  will 
never  be  worthy  of  their  predecessors.  Comfort  me  then, 
my  dear  Bobby,  in  this  real  affliction." — (To  Morehead, 
24th  May,  1802.) 

It  was  a  real  affliction,  indeed.    But  it  arose  chiefly  from 


112  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

his  naturally  thinking  less  of  the  old  friends  who  were  to 
remain,  than  of  those  more  recent  ones  he  was  about  to 
lose ;  and  from  the  impossibility  of  his  then  being  aware 
of  the  happiness  of  the  life  that  awaited  him  with  other 
friends  whom  he  gradually  acquired. 

Of  the  ten  persons  mentioned  in  these  communications, 
only  four  are  now  alive,  viz  : — Lord  Brougham,  Mr.  Reddie, 
Mr.  Thomas  Thomson,  and  Lord  Murray.  Of  these  it 
would  be  indecorous  to  speak,  in  their  own  presence,  as  I 
would  desire.  Of  a  person  so  eminent  as  Lord  Brougham, 
indeed,  it  would  be  even  absurd  to  say  any  thing  in  so  un- 
worthy a  record  as  this.  Of  the  other  three,  I  shall  merely 
say  enough  to  identify  them.  Mr.  James  Reddie  was  at 
this  time  a  very  rising  lawyer;  who  has  only  been  ex- 
cluded from  such  honours  as  belong  to  the  learning  of  the 
profession,  by  his  settling  early  in  Glasgow  as  the  legal 
adviser  of  the  municipal  corporation.  Mr.  Murray,  who, 
thirty-two  years  after  this,  succeeded  Jeffrey  in  the  office 
of  Lord  Advocate,  is  now  a  judge.  Jeffrey  had  a  very 
warm  affection  for  him ;  and  the  friendship  continued  un- 
broken to  the  last.  He  was  in  the  same  position  with 
relation  to  Mr.  Thomson,  the  most  learned  and  judicious 
antiquary  in  Scotland.  No  one  has  done  nearly  so  much 
to  recover,  to  arrange,  to  explain,  and  to  preserve  our  his- 
torical muniments.  He  found  them  almost  a  chaos,  and, 
after  bringing  them  into  order,  has  left  them  on  a  system 
of  whioh  the  value  will  be  felt  the  more  every  day  that 
they  accumulate.  His  real  merit,  great  as  it  may  seem 
now,  will  seem  still  greater  five  hundred  years  hence.  He 
is  at  present  one  of  the  principal  clerks  in  the  Supreme 
Court.  Had  he  not  allowed  his  taste  for  antiquarian  re- 
search to  allure  him  from  the  common  drudgery  of  his 
profession,  he  would  have  stood  high  in  his  practice,  as  he 
always  did  in  character,  at  the  bar ;  and  would  now  have 
been  adorning  the  bench  by  his  considerate  wisdom  and 
peculiar  learning. 


HIS    OLD   EDINBURGH    FRIENDS.  113 

The  celebrity  of  those  who  are  gone  makes  it  unneces- 
sary for  me  to  attempt  to  describe  them.  Mr.  Smith  is 
known  by  his  works ;  Mr.  Allen,  by  his  writings,  and  by 
Lord  Brougham's  account  of  him  ;*  Mr.  Homer,  by  his 
Memoirs ;  Mr.  Brown,  by  his  Lectures,  and  his  Life  by 
"Welsh ;  and  Lord  Webb  Seymour,  a  brother  of  the  Duke 
of  Somerset,  by  the  Biographical  Notice  of  him  by  Mr. 
Hallam,t  one  of  the  best  portraits  of  a  character  in  writing 
that  exists.  He  had  come  to  Edinburgh  in  1797,  and  re- 
sided there  till  his  lamented  death  in  1819.  Horner  and 
Playfair  were  his  particular  friends,  and  all  of  that  calm 
cast  were  so  congenial  to  his  truth-seeking  mind,  that  we 
used  sometimes  to  admire  his  good  nature  in  tolerating  the 
levity  of  Jeffrey.  But  Seymour  loved  him  sincerely,  and 
this  in  spite  of  his  serene  spirit  being  often  troubled  by 
onsets  on  his  most  cherished  doctrines,  and  even  by  laugh- 
ter at  his  grand  philosophical  designs.  But  a  warm  mutual 
affection  bound  them  together.  Never  was  a  stranger  more 
universally  beloved  in  a  city  than  Seymour  was.  The  very 
people  on  the  streets  reverenced  the  thoughtful  air  -and 
countenance  of  the  English  nobleman  who  honoured  the 
place  by  making  it  his  home. 

Mr.  Hamilton  was  a  Scotchman,  who  had  been  in  India  ; 
a  little,  amiable  person  of  excellent  conversation,  and  great 
knowledge  of  Oriental  literature.  He  was  afterward  pro- 
fessor of  Sanscrit  in  the  East  India  College  at  Haileybury. 

Dr.  John  Thomson  was  of  the  medical  profession.  Be- 
ginning as  a  surgeon,  he  afterward  rose  to  extensive  prac- 
tice as  a  physician,  and  obtained  the  chair  of  Pathology 
in  the  College  of  Edinburgh.  He  was  a  man  of  learning 
and  enthusiasm,  and  contributed  several  valuable  papers 
to  the  earlier  numbers  of  the  Review.  Jeffrey  and  he  con- 
tinued in  habits  of  intimate  friendship  till  Thomson's  death, 
on  the  llth  of  October,  1846. 

*  Historical  Sketches. 

•j-  In  the  Appendix  to  the  first  volume  of  the  Memoirs  of  Horner. 
H  lu* 


114  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Jeffrey's  anticipations  of  the  loss  of  the  leading  persons 
in  this  society  proved  true.  It  soon  began  to  dissolve,  and 
within  three  years  from  the  date  of  his  last  letter,  had 
almost  totally  disappeared.  The  individual  friendships 
survived  ;  but,  as  an  Edinburgh  brotherhood,  it  had  ceased. 
How  fortunate  it  is  that  his  own  anchor  was  fixed  in  his 
native  soil,  and  that  he  could  not  follow  his  friends  into 
scenes  which  no  one  was  fitter  to  shine  in ;  but  which, 
however  fascinating  to  ambition,  were  not  more  favourable 
to  happiness  than  the  more  peaceful  ones  to  which  he  was 
moored.  He  himself  soon  came  to  think  so.  Writing  to 
Homer,  (5th  January,  1804,)  he  asks  about  Smith's  pros- 
pects, and  says,  "  I  am  afraid  Edinburgh  is  out  of  his 
scheme  of  life  now,  at  all  events  ;  though  I  console  my- 
self with  believing  that  you  have  all  committed  a  .great 
mistake  in  leaving  it,  and  that  we  have  here  capabilities  of 
happiness  that  will  not  so  easily  be  found  anywhere  else." 

There  is  little  else  to  be  told  of  this  interesting  band. 
They  formed  a  distinct  and  marked  sect ;  distinguished  by 
their  reputation,  their  Whiggism,  and  their  strong  mutual 
coherence.  There  were  a  few  men  of  the  opposite  party, 
or  rather  of  no  party,  by  whom  they  were  kindly  received, 
such  as  Dr.  James  Gregory,  the  Rev.  Archibald  Alison, 
Mr.  Henry  Mackenzie,  and  Scott.  But  by  the  old  Tories 
of  the  correct  stamp,  they  were  disdained ;  and  by  the 
young  ones,  in  whose  imaginations  their  principles  were 
only  aggravated  by  their  talents  and  their  gayety,  they 
were  viewed  with  genuine  horror.  This  condensed  them 
the  more.  In  themselves  they  were  all  merry,  even  the 
thoughtful  Horner.  They  were  all  full  of  hope ;  not  one 
of  them  seeming  ever  to  doubt  that  he  would  yet  do  some- 
thing. They  were  all  very  industrious.  But,  hard  students 
though  they  were,  they  were  always  ready  for  a  saunter, 
or  a  discussion,  and  particularly  for  an  hilarious  supper. 
"  I  despair  (writes  Jeffrey  to  Allen,  on  the  21st  January, 
1804)  of  finding  any  substitute  for  those  quiet  and  confi- 


HIS   OLD    EDINBURGH    FRIENDS.  115 

dential  parties  in  which  we  'used  to  mingle,  and  play  the 
fool  together."  They  all  attained  eminence  in  their  re- 
spective paths ;  and  none  of  them  ever  forgot  those  old 
Edinburgh  days.  Brown  and  John  Thomson  both  left  the 
Review  from  offence,  in  its  infancy ;  but  this  never  im- 
paired the  editor's  regard,  or  that  of  his  associates,  for 
them.  And  it  was  toward  Jeffrey  that  the  group  gravi- 
tated. Several  of  them  surpassed  him  in  individual  quali- 
ties, but  none  in  general  power ;  and  this  was  attested,  in 
spite  of  occasional  perturbations,  by  their  all  practically 
acknowledging  him  as  their  centre. 

Although  he  happens  to  mention  Brown  and  Murray  as 
his  only  remaining  associates,  he  only  means  those  "  with 
whom  I  have  speculated  and  amused  myself."  He  had 
many  other  valued  friends  left;  and  among  others — the 
only  person  here  who  overshadowed  his  literary  fame — 
Walter  Scott.  Every  thing  that  ever  occurred  between 
these  two  has  been  stated  by  Mr.  Lockhart  in  his  life  of 
Sir  Walter ;  and  I  have  only  to  explain  that,  though  always 
on  excellent  terms,  their  political  opinions,  and  the  one 
being  the  critic  and  the  other  the  criticized,  interfered  with 
their  being  on  habits  of  daily  and  confidential  intimacy. 
Scott,  in  mentioning  Jeffrey  to  Byron,  (16th  July,  1812,) 
describes  him  as  "  my  friend  Jeffrey,  for  such,  in  spite  of 
many  a  feud,  literary  and  political,  I  always  esteem  him," 
which  discloses  the  obstacles  that  their  regard  had  to  con- 
tend with.  Even  so  late  as  1827,  in  mentioning  a  party 
at  Mr.  Murray's,  where  he  met  Jeffrey  and  other  Whig 
friends,  he  observes  in  his  journal,  "  I  do  not  know  how  it 
is,  but  when  I  am  with  a  party  of  my  opposition  friends, 
the  day  is  often  merrier  than  with  our  own  set ;"  and  he 
accounts  for  this,  by  saying,  that  "  both  parties  meet  with 
the  feeling  of  something  like  novelty."  The  fact  that  even 
to  a  person  of  Scott's  joviality  and  frankness,  a  dinner 
together  was  a  novelty,  shows  that  their  friendship,  though 
solid,  was  not  embodied  in  habitual  intercourse. 


116  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

Jeffrey  had  a  son,  born  in  September,  1802 ;  but  he 
died  on  the  25th  of  October,  after  a  few  hours  of  gentle 
illness.  The  sudden  extinction  of  this  child  made  him  ner- 
vous about  all  infantine  maladies  ever  after. 

There  are  few  men  whom  the  fame  and  the  occupation 
of  the  Review  would  not  have  withdrawn  from  such  obscure 
professional  employment  as  had  yet  fallen,  or  seemed  likely 
to  fall,  to  his  share.  But,  with  his  usual  prudence  and 
energy,  he  struggled  to  counteract  the  injury  which  a 
known  addiction  to  any  other  pursuit  almost  ^invariably 
does  to  that  of  the  law,  by  additional  attention  to  what- 
ever its  practice  required.  He. was  well  aware  of  the  pre- 
cariousness  of  an  income  depending  on  authorship,  and 
knew  that  literature  was  seldom  more  graceful  than  when 
combined  with  something  more  solid,  and,  particularly, 
with  eminence  in  a  liberal  profession,  leading  to  public 
consequence  and  to  high  honours.  In  telling  Horner, 
(llth  May,  1803,)  who  had  left  Edinburgh  in  the  end  of 
the  preceding  March,  that  he  had  agreed  to  become  the 
regular  editor,  he  says,  "  If  I  do  that  well,  and  am  regular 
in  my  attendance,  &c.,  perhaps  the  knowledge  of  my  new 
occupation  may  not  very  materially  impede  my  advance- 
ment. It  will  be  known  that  my  connection  with  the  Re- 
view is  not  for  life,  and  that  I  will  renounce  it  as  soon  as 
I  can  do  without  it.  The  risk  of  sinking  in  the  general 
estimation,  and  being  considered  as  fairly  articled  to  a 
trade  that  is  not  perhaps  the  most  respectable,  has  stag- 
gered me  more,  I  will  acknowledge,  than  any  other  con- 
sideration. I  certainly  would  not  leave,  or  even  degrade, 
iny  profession,  by  becoming  the  editor  of  any  other  journal 
in  the  kingdom ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  there 
are  some  peculiarities  in  our  publication  that  should  remove 
a  part  of  these  scruples." 

Being  informed  that  his  brother  was  contemplating  mar- 
riage in  America,  he  encouraged  him  by  this  account  of 
his  own  conjugal  condition : — «  After  the  experience  of 


HIS  BROTHER'S  MARRIAGE.  117 

summer  and  winler,  health  and  sickness,  gayety  and  sorrow, 
I  can  say,  conscientiously,  that  marriage  has  been  to  me  a 
source  of  inestimable  happiness  ;  and  that  I  should  be  much 
inclined  to  measure  a  man's  capacities  of  goodness  by  jthe 
effect  it  produces  on  him.  The  great  good,  certainly,  is 
the  securing  one  steady  and  affectionate  friend,  to  whom 
all  your  concerns  are  important,  whom  nothing  can  alienate 
or  pervert,  and  with  whom  there  can  be  no  misapprehen- 
sion, concealment,  or  neglect.  This  is  the  true  basis  upon 
which  habit  and  recollection  build  a  thousand  secondary 
affections.  To  you  I  think  marriage  will  be  of  unusual  ad- 
vantage ;  for  your  wandering  and  unsettled  life  made  fixa- 
tion particularly  necessary ;  and  the  light  holds  of  casual 
friendship  and  idle  acquaintances  will  be  in  danger  of  pro- 
ducing a  cold  and  selfish  impatience  of  stronger  and  nar- 
rower ties.  As  to  your  choice,  I  dare  say  it  is  excellent. 
Indeed,  a  man  of  tolerable  sense  can  hardly  choose  ill,  if  he 
do  not  choose  in  a  fever  of  admiration.  For  most  part  of 
the  endearment  that  makes  the  happiness  of  marriage, 
comes  after  the  romantic  ardours  have  blazed  out.  Your 
Susan  will  not  think  this  very  complimentary,  so  I  beg  you 
would  not  tell  her ;  but  say,  I  am  sure,  she  is  an  angel, 
and  that  there  is  no  angel  I  long  so  much  to  meet  with.  I 
am  glad  she  is  little,  for  the  honour  of  our  fraternity ;  and 
think,  indeed,  from  your  whole  description,  that  she  would 
suit  me  much  better  than  the  wife  I  have,  who  is  constantly 
insulting  me  on  my  stature  and  my  levity.  Perhaps  we 
may  negotiate  an  exchange  when  we  meet,  after  the  fash- 
ion of  the  ancient  Britons." 

When  Horner  withdrew  from  Edinburgh,  he  left  a  legacy 
of  his  bar  wig  to  Jeffrey,  who  tells  him,  after  trying  it 
about  a  fortnight, — "  Your  wig  attracts  great  admiration, 
and  I  hope  in  time  it  will  attract  great  fees  also.  But  in 
spite  of  the  addition  it  make's  to  my  honour  and  beauty,  I 
must  confess  that  the  Parliament  House  appears  duller  and 
more  ridiculous  this  season  than  usual.  Some  of  the  last 


118  LIFE   OP   LORD'JETFRlfr. 

wearer's  contempt,  I  suppose,  still  sticks  to  the  cowl  jf  the 
said  wig,  and  oozes  into  my  head.  Now  that  the  evenings 
are  growing  long,  and  the  town  empty,  I  often  wish  you 
were  here  to  speculate  with  me  upon  Queen  Street." — (26th 
May,  1803.)  The  hairdresser  who  made  one  wig  fit  these 
two,  ought  to  have  been  elevated  to  the  deaconship  of  the 
craft;  for  nature  never  produced  two  heads  less  alike, 
either  in  form  or  bulk.  The  explanation,  however,  is  that 
almost  all  wigs  were  the  same  to  Jeffrey,  for  none  ever 
fitted  him.  He  and  his  wig  were  always  on  bad  terms  ;  and 
the  result  was  that  he  very  seldom  wore  one.  Throughout 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years  of  his 
practice,  he  was  conspicuous,  and  nearly  solitary,  in  his 
then  black  and  bushy  hair. 

It  was  in  1803  that  a  private  institution  arose,  upon 
which  much  of  his  social  happiness  and  that  of  many  of 
his  best  friends  depended  for  nearly  forty  years.  He  says 
to  Horner,  (15th  June,  1803,) — « I  forgot  to  ask  Murray 
if  he  has  told  you  about  our  club.  In  two  words,  it  is  to 
be  a  weekly  meeting  of  all  the  literary  and  social  persons 
in  the  city ;  and  we  set  out  last  Friday  with  sixteen.  The 
idea  was  Walter  Scott's.  All  his  friends  are  included,  and 
all  ours.  We  have  besides,  John  Playfair,  Alex.  Irving, 
H.  Mackenzie,  Sir  James  Hall,  and  I  believe  Alison.  Our 
compliment  is  to  be  thirty,  and  two  black  balls  to  exclude 
any  candidate.  I  think  it  promises  to  unite  the  literature 
of  the  place  more  effectually  and  extensively  than  any  thing 
else.  You  shall  be  admitted  as  a  visitor  when  you  can 
spare  us  a  vacation  visit."  This  refers  to  the  Friday  club 
— so  called  from  the  day  on  which  it  first  used  to  meet.  It 
was  entirely  of  a  literary  and  social  character,  and  was 
open,  without  any  practical  limitation  of  numbers,  to  any 
person  generally  resident  in  Edinburgh,  who  was  supposed 
to  combine  a  taste  for  learning  or  science  with  agreeable 
manners,  and  especially  with  perfect  safety.  The  following 
were  all  the  members,  with  the  years  of  their  joining,  who 


THE    FRIDAY    CLUB.  119 

ever  belonged  to  it.     Those  marked  by  an  asterisk  are  the 
present  survivors : — 

1803.  Sir  James  Hall — geology  and  architecture,  &c. 
Dugald  Stewart. 

John  Playfair. 

Rev.  Archd.  Alison — sermons,  essays  on  taste. 

Rev.  Sidney  Smith. 

Rev.  John  Elmsley,  Oxford. 

Alex.  Irving,  afterward  Lord  Newton,  a  Judge. 

William  Erskine,  afterward  Lord  Kinnedar,  a  Judge. 

George   Cranstoun,   afterward  Lord   Corehouse,  'a 
Judge. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Francis  Jeffrey. 

^Thomas  Thomson,  afterward  Clerk  of  Session — va- 
rious antiquarian  works. 

Dr.  John  Thomson,  physician  and  professor — lec- 
tures on  inflammation,  &c.  &c. 
*John  A.  Murray,   afterward   Lord  Advocate,  now 

Lord  Murray. 
*Henry  Brougham. 

Henry  Mackenzie — the  Man  of  Feeling,  &c. 

Henry  J.  Mackenzie,  Lord  Mackenzie,  a  Judge. 

Malcolm  Laing,  historian. 
*H.  Cockburn,  now  Lord  Cockburn,  a  Judge. 
*John  Richardson,  solicitor  in  London. 

John  Allen. 

Francis  Homer. 

Thomas  Campbell — Pleasures  of  Hope,  &c.  &c. 

1804.  Alex.  Hamilton,  orientalist. 

Andrew  Coventry,  physician,  and  professor  of  agri- 
culture. 

John  Robinson,  professor  of  natural  history — Life 

of  Black,  &c.  &c. 
*George  Strickland,  afterward  Sir  George,  M.  P. 


120  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

JL 

Andrew  Dalzell,  profe8sor  of  Greek. 
Lord  Webb  Seymour. 
Earl  of  Selkirk — emigration,  &c.  &c. 
Lord  Glenbervie.  •  -.v 
1807.  ilev.  John  Thomson. 
1810.  John  Jeffrey. 

1811.*Thomas  F.  Kennedy,  of  Dunure,  formerly  M.  P., 
Treasurer  of  Ireland,  &c.,  now  Commissioner  of 
Woods  and  Forests. 

*John  Fullerton,  now  Lord  Fullerton,  a  Judge. 
1812.  George  Wilson,  retired  English  lawyer. 
1814.  John  Gordon,  physician. 
1816.*Andrew  Rutherford,  since  Lord  Advocate,  and  now 

Lord  Rutherford,  a  Judge. 
1817.  James  Keay,  of  Snaigo,  advocate. 
1825.*Leonard  Homer,  late  President  of  the  Geological 

Society,  London — his  brother's  memoirs,  &c. 
*  James  Pillans,  professor  of  humanity. 
1826.*Count  M.  De  Flahaut. 

David  Cathcart,  Lord  Alloway,  a  Judge. 
1827.*Earl  of  Minto,  Lord  Privy  Seal. 
*William  Murray,  of  Henderland. 
1830.*Mountstuart  Elphinstone,  India. 
1838.* James  Abercrombie,  afterward  Speaker. 

"  It  was  announced  at  the  last  club  that  Lord  Webb  was 
to  pass  next  winter  in  Edinburgh.  I  hope  you  will  confirm 
this,  and  send  him  down  fully  convinced  that,  without  being 
a  member  of  the  said  club,  it  is  impossible  to  have  any 
tolerable  existence  in  Edinburgh." — (To  Homer,  8th  Au- 
gust, 1803.)  This  was  not  exactly  the  fact,  for  there  were 
many  literary  and  excellent  men  who  were  never  in  it;  but 
no  one  acquainted  with  this  place  can  fail  to  perceive  that 
these  are  distinguished  Edinburgh  names  ;  perhaps  the  most 
so  that  have  been  united,  and  adhered  so  long  in  any  such 
association  in  our  day.  Admission  as  members  was  re- 


THE    FRIDAY   CLUB.  121 

stricted  to  those  living  in  Edinburgh ;  but  strangers  were 
very  freely  introduced  as  visitors.  At  first  the  club  met 
weekly,  and  only  to  supper,  a  favourite  refection  in  old 
Edinburgh,  and  one  that,  not  only  in  1803,  but  for  many 
years  thereafter,  was  cultivated  as  a  necessary  part  of  life, 
in  a  majority  of  rational  houses.  "  Our  club  comes  on  ad- 
mirably. We  have  got  Dugald  Stewart,  the  Man  of  Feel- 
ing, Sir  James  Hall,  John  Playfair,  and  four  or  five  more 
of  the  senior  literati,  and  we  sit  chatting  every  week  till 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning." — (To  John,  30th  July,  1803.) 
However,  though  there  be  more  cheerfulness,  ease,  and 
kindness  at  one  supper  than  at  a  dozen  of  heavy  dinners, 
still,  like  other  excellent  things,  they  have  fallen  under  the 
fashionable  ban,  and  will  soon  be  unknown ;  for  though 
the  two  be  sometimes  compared,  nothing  is  less  like  a  sup- 
per than  a  late  dinner.  Even  the  Friday's  weekly  suppers 
came  to  be  aided  by  a  monthly  banquet  at  six  o'clock ;  and 
then  the  Roman  meal  disappeared  as  the  principal  repast. 
But  the  philosophers  rarely  parted  without  supper  too.  The 
dinner  took  place  throughout  seven  months  in  the  year, 
and  parsimony  was  certainly  not  one  of  its  vices.  We  were 
troubled  by  no  written  laws,  no  motions,  no  disputes,  no 
ballots,  no  fines,  no  business  of  any  kind,  except  what  was 
managed  by  one  of  ourselves  as  secretary  ;  an  office  held 
by  Mr.  Richardson  from  1803  to  1806,  when  he  settled  in 
London  ;  by  me,  from  1806  to  1834  ;  then  by  Mr.  Ruther- 
furd.  Nobody  was  admitted  by  any  formal  vote.  New 
members  grew  in  silently,  by  a  sort  of  elective  attraction. 
The  established  taste  was  for  quiet  talk  and  good  wine. 

And  here  were  many  of  the  best  social  evenings  "of  some 
of  our  best  men  passed.  After  Smith  and  one  or  two  more 
left  us  to  ourselves,  Scott,  Thos.  Thomson,  Jeffrey,  and 
Playfair  were  the  best  clubbists.  Scott  was  absent  very 
seldom,  the  other  three  almost  never.  The  professional 
art  of  show  conversation  was  held  in  no  esteem.  Collo- 
quial ambition  would  have  been  so  entirely  out  of  place, 

11 


122  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

that  there  was  never  even  an  indication  of  its  approach.  The 
charm  was  in  having  such  men  in  their  natural  condition, 
during  their  "careless  and  cordial  hours."  The  preceding 
asterisks  tell  why  the  association  has,  for  some  years,  heen 
practically  dissolved.  Death,  sickness,  and  age,  having  ex- 
tinguished its  light,  it  has  been  wisely  allowed  to  pass  away. 

The  College  was  established  at  Calcutta  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  century,  and  Jeffrey  was  in  some  danger  of 
being  lost  by  having  the  honour  of  obtaining  its  chair 
of  moral  and  political  science.  Horner,  who  seems  to  have 
suggested  the  scheme,  actually  advised  him  to  go  into  this 
respectable  banishment.  "I  shall  have  the  purest  and 
most  cordial  pleasure  when  I  hail  you  professor" — (8th 
November,  1803  ;)  and  Jeifrey  himself  was  actually  anxious 
to  be  so  hailed.  He  said  that  his  feelings  consisted  of — 
«.<  1st,  A  great  obligation  to  you,  and  something  like  humi- 
liation in  the  persuasion  of  not  deserving  so  high  an  esti- 
mation. 2d,  A  tolerably  sober  persuasion  that  I  should 
not  be  qualified  for  the  duties  of  the  situation ;  and  3d,  A 
sort  of  assurance  that  it  will  never  be  put  in  my  power." 
He  adds,  however, — "  I  think  I  may  venture  to  say  that 
I  should  be  extremely  gratified  by  such  an  appointment. 
Why  do  you  not  apply  for  it  to  yourself?" — (12th  No- 
vember, 1803.)  In  a  few  days  he  says,  "  I  wait  your  further 
communications  in  perfect  tranquillity,  and  shall  bear  my 
disappointment,  I  am  persuaded,  as  heroically  as  I  did  in 
the  case  of  the  collectors  of  decisions." — (22d  November, 
1803.)  What  became  of  the  plan  I  do  not  know ;  but, 
mercifully,  he  did  not  get  it.  Poverty  alone,  the  usual 
reason  for  voluntary  exile,  accounts  for  his  ever  harbouring 
the  thought  of  taking  it.  His  professional  income  this  year, 
after  above  nine  years  anxious  and  steady  attendance  at 
the  bar,  was  only  £240. — (Letter  to  Horner,  21st  March, 
1804.) 

The  intended  gown  of  the  Asiatic  professor  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  uniform  of  the  actual  ensign. — "  I  do  not 


DISPUTE   WITH    THELAVALL.  123 

know  if  I  told  you  that  a  heroic  band  of  us  have  offered 
our  services  as  riflemen,  and  that  I  have  great  hopes  of 
turning  out  an  illustrious  general  before  the  war  is  over. 
I  am  studying  the  King  of  Prussia's  tactics,  and  find  I  get 
on  amazingly." — (To  John,  23d  July,  1803.)  This  design 
failed,  and  then  he  took  a  commission  in  an  excellent  Edin- 
burgh battalion.  "  I  am  made  ensign,  with  a  vast  cocked 
hat ;  under  which  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  shaking  hands 
with  Major  David  Hume,  last  Saturday,  on  the  parade." — 
(To  Homer,  21st  January,  1804.)  Volunteering  was  then 
unavoidable  ;  whether  from  patriotism,  contagion,  or  amuse- 
ment. But  it  was  no  nominal  service  with  Jeffrey,  be- 
cause he  was  a  sincere  believer  in  the  almost  absolute  cer- 
tainty of  actual  invasion,  and  that  he  was  to  be  "piked" 
at  the  head  of  his  company.  This  was  certainly  not  the 
usual  practical  feeling.  Very  few  went  to  parade  with  any 
serious  impression  of  either  immediate  personal  or  public 
danger.  I  forget  how  long  he  remained  under  the  cocked 
hat,  but  I  never  saw  a  worse  soldier.  He  never  even  got 
the  length  of  being  at  home  in  his  uniform,  and  never 
cared  about  his  military  business  ;  but  seemed  to  be  always 
absorbed  in  his  own  speculations.  I  doubt  if  the  King  of 
Prussia's  tactics  enabled  him  to  face  his  company  either  to 
the  right  or  to  the  left. 

Toward  the  close  of  this  year,  (1803,)  he  was  forced  into 
a  dispute  so  contemptible,  that,  as  it  is  the  duty  of  biogra- 
phy rather  to  cleanse  away,  than  to  perpetuate  incidents, 
which,  though  they  might  gratify  diseased  curiosity,  neither 
illustrate  character,  nor  are  of  any  intrinsic  value,  I  would 
not  notice  it  had  it  not  been  that  Jeffrey  made  it  the  sub- 
ject of  a  public  defence.  The  substance  of  the  matter  is 
this: — Mr.  John  Thelwall,  who  was  acquitted  of  high  trea- 
son in  London,  in  1794,  published  a  volume  of  poems, 
which,  in  April,  1803,  Jeffrey  had  reviewed  (No.  3,  art.  21) 
with  what  he  thought  just  ridicule  and  contempt.  Mr. 
Thelwall  came  to  Edinburgh  in  December  thereafter,  and 


124  LIFE   OF  "LORD   JEFFREY. 

tried  a  course  of  public  lectures  "  On  Elocution  and  Ora- 
tory."   The  course  failed  on  the  very  first  performance  frotn 
the  laughter  of  the  audience,  aggravated,  no  doubt,  by 
the  personal  unpopularity  here  of  the  lecturer.    In  a  few 
days  Mr.  Thelwall  published  a  long  and  very  violent  pam- 
phlet ;  which,  besides  answering  the  review,  charged  Jeffrey 
with  having  confederated  with  certain  associates  to  obstruct 
the  lecture,  and  with  having  carried  this  conspiracy  into 
effect  by  concealing  himself  behind  a  screen,  and  making 
the  necessary  signals.     All  this  was  stated  in  the  most 
offensive  possible  terms.      It  was  thought  right,  though 
contrary  to  Horncr's  opinion,  that  Jeffrey  should  answer, 
which  he  did  in  a  few  pages,  denying  the  statements.    Mr. 
Thelwall,  in  order  to  remove  the  doubts  of  his  friends  by 
identifying  Jeffrey  as  the  conspirator  behind  the  screen, 
went  into  the  court,  and  pointed  out  the  guilty  man.     But 
this  happened  to  be  Sir  Walter  Scott's  friend,  Mr.  William 
Erskine ;  whose  dislike  of  the  traitor,  which  he  and  others 
held  the  acquitted  man  to  be,  had  no  doubt  been  conspi- 
cuous enough  at  the  lecture  ;  though  certainly  without  any 
concealment  or  confederacy.     Notwithstanding  this  refu- 
tation of  the  charge,  the  whole  statements  were  repeated 
in  a  reply  by  Mr.  Thelwall,  "  To  the  calumnies,  misrepre- 
sentations, and  literary  forgeries"  of  Jjis  reviewer.* 

Jeffrey  was  in  London  in  the  spring  of  1804,  for  the  first 
time,  apparently,  since  the  review  had  given  him  celebrity  ; 
and  enjoyed  that  world  with  the  delight  with  which,  as  a 
temporary  excitement,  he  always  tasted  it.  "  I  have  come 
(he  tells  his  brother,  12th  April,  1804)  on  the  pretext  of 
recruiting  for  reviews,  and  of  attending  an  appeal  cause ; 
but  entre  nous,  my  chief  motive  has  been  to  enjoy  the  so- 
ciety of  some  of  my  best  friends,  that  are  now  settled  in 
this  place,  and  to  solace  myself  with  the  spectacle  and  the 
conversation  of  such  o'f  the  great  political  and  literary  cha- 

*  I  have,  been  told  that,  many  years  afterward,  they  met  amicably 


EDINBURGH    SOCIETY.  125 

racters  as  I  can  get  access  to.  Hitherto  I  have  found  the 
avenues  very  ,open,  and  have  been  received  into  a  great 
deal  of  good  company  with  some-  favour  and  distinction. 
To  saythe  truth,  I  never  saw  any  thing  of  London  before, 
and  I  enter  into  any  thing  that  is- proposed  to  me  with  all 
the  ardour  and  expectation  of  a  boy  from  college.  I  find 
so  much  to  do  and  to  attend  to,  that  I  regret  the  necessity 
of  eating  and  sleeping,  and,  indeed,  have  not  been  five 
hours  in  bed  at  a  time  since  my  arrival.  The  literary  men, 
I  acknowledge,  excite  my  reverence  the  least.  The  power- 
ful conversations  alarm  me  a  good  deal ;  and  the  great 
public  orators  fill  me  with  despair." 

Of  course  he  could  not  find  in  Scotland,  or  anywhere 
else,  the  variety  and  the  brilliancy  of  London  society.  But 
he  returned  to  a  society  which  he  entirely  loved,  and  which 
was  worthy  of  him  ;  and  in  which  he  was  beginning  to  rise 
into  that  unanimous  esteem  which  he  at  last,  though  not 
speedily,  readied.  The  society  of  Edinburgh  was  not  that 
of  a  provincial  town,  and  cannot  be  judged  of  by  any  such 
standard.  It  was  metropolitan.  Trade  or  manufactures 
have,  fortunately,  never  marked  this  city  for  their  own.  But 
it  is  honoured  by  the  presence  of  a  college  famous  through- 
out the  world  ;  and  from  which  the  world  has  been  supplied 
with  many  of  the  distinguished  men  who  have  shone  in  it. 
It  is  the  seat  of  the  supreme  courts  of  justice,  and  of  the 
annual  convocation  of  the  Church,  formerly  no  small 
matter ;  and  of  almost  all  the  government  offices  and  in- 
fluence. At  the  period  I  am  referring  to,  this  combination 
of  quiet  with  aristocracy  made  it  the  resort,  to  a  far 
greater  extent  than  it  is  now,  of  the  families  of  the  gentry, 
who  used  to  leave  their  country  residences  and  enjoy  the 
gayety  and  the  fashion  which  their  presence  tended  to  pro- 
mote. Many  of  the  curious  characters  and  habits  of  the 
receding  age,  the  last  purely  Scotch  age.  that  Scotland  was 
destined  to  see,  still  lingered  among  us.  Several  were  then 
to  be  met  with  who  had  seen  the  Pretender,  with  his  court 

ii" 


126  LIFE  OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

and  his  wild  followers,  in  the  palace  of  Holyrood.  Almost 
the.  whole  official  state,  as  settled  at  the  union,  survived ; 
and  all  graced  the  capital,  unconscious  of  the  economical 
scythe  which  has  since  mowed  it  down.  All  our  nobility 
had  then  not  fled.  A  few  had  sense  not  to  feel  degraded 
by  being  happy  at  home.  The  old  town  was  not  quite  de- 
serted. Many  of  our  principal  people  still  dignified  its 
picturesque  recesses  and  historical  mansions,  and  were 
dignified  by  them.  The  closing  of  the  Continent  sent 
many  excellent  English  families  and  youths  among  us,  for 
education  and  for  pleasure.  The  war  brightened  us  with 
uniforms,  and  strangers,  and  shows. 

Over  all  this  there  was  diffused  the  influence  of  a  greater 
number  of  persons  attached  to  literature  and  science,  some 
as  their  calling',  and  some  for  pleasure,  than  could  be  found, 
in  proportion  to  the  population,  in  any  other  city  in  the 
empire.  Within  a  few  years,  including  the  period  I  am 
speaking  of,  the  college  contained  Principal  Robertson, 
Joseph  Black,  his  successor  Hope,  the  second  Munro,  James 
Gregory,  John  Robison,  John  Playfair,  and  Dugald  Stew- 
art ;  none  of  them  confined  monastically  to  their  books,  but 
all  (except  Robison)  who  was  in  bad  health)  partaking  of 
the  enjoyments  of  the  world.  Episcopacy  gave  us  the  Rev. 
Archibald  Alison ;  and  in  Blair,  Henry,  John  Home,  Sir 
Harry  Moncrieff,  and  others,  Presbytery  made  an  excellent 
contribution,  the  more  to  be  admired  that  it  came  from  a 
church  which  eschews  rank,  and  boasts  of  poverty.  The 
law,  to  which  Edinburgh  has  always  been  so  largely  in- 
debted, sent  its  copious  supplies  ;  who,  instead  of  disturbing 
good  company  by  professional  matter,  an  offence  with  which 
the  lawyers  of  every  place  are  charged,  were  remarkably 
free  of  this  vulgarity  ;  and  being  trained  to  take  difference 
of  opinion  easily,  and  to  conduct  discussions  with  forbear- 
ance, were,  without  undue  obtrusion,  the  most  cheerful 
people  that  were  to  be  met  with.  Lords  Monboddo,  Hailes, 
Glenlee,  Meadowbank,  and  Woodhouselee,  all  literary 


EDINBURGH    SOCIETY.  127 

judges,  and  Robert  Blair,  Henry  Erskine,  and  Henry 
Mackenzie,  senior,  were  at  the  earlier  end  of  this  file  ;  Scott 
and  Jeffrey  at  the  later ;  but  including  a  variety  of  valua- 
ble persons  between  these  extremities.  Sir  William  Forbes, 
Sir  James  Hall,  and  Mr.  Clerk  of  Eldin,  represented  a 
class  of  country  gentlemen  cultivating  learning  on  its  ac- 
count. And  there  were  several,  who,  like  the  founder  of 
the  Huttonian  Theory,  selected  this  city  for  their  residence 
solely  from  the  consideration  in  which  science  and  letters 
were  here  held,  and  the  facilities,  or  rather  the  temptations, 
presented  for  their  prosecution.  Philosophy  had  become 
indigenous  in  the  place,  and  all  classes,  even  in  their  gay- 
est hours,  were  proud  of  the  presence  of  its  cultivators. 
Thus  learning  was  improved  by  society,  and  society  by 
learning.  And  unless  when  party  spirit  interfered,  which 
at  one  time,  however,  it  did  frequently  and  bitterly,  perfect 
harmony,  and  indeed  lively  cordiality,  prevailed. 

And  all  this  was  still  a  Scotch  scene.  The  whole  coun- 
try had  not  begun  to  be  absorbed  in  the  ocean  of  London. 
There  were  still  little  great  places  ; — places  with  attractions 
quite  sufficient  to  retain  men  of  talent  or  learning  in  their 
comfortable  and  respectable  provincial  positions ;  and 
which  were  dignified  by  the  tastes  and  institutions  which 
learning  and  talent  naturally  rear.  The  operation  of  the 
commercial  principle  which  tempts  all  superiority  to  try  its 
fortune  in  the  greatest  accessible  market,  is  perhaps  irre- 
sistible ;  but  any  thing  is  surely  to  be  lamented  which 
annihilates  local  intellect,  and  degrades  the  provincial 
spheres  which  intellect  and  its  consequences  can  alone 
adorn.  According  to  the  modern  rate  of  travelling,  the 
capitals  of  Scotland  and  of  England  were  then  about  2400 
miles  asunder.  Edinburgh  was  still  more  distant  in  its 
style  and  habits.  "  It  had  then  its  own  independent  tastes, 
and  ideas,  and  pursuits.  Enough  of  the  generation  that 
was  retiring  survived  to  cast  an  antiquarian  air  over  the 
city,  and  the  generation  that  was  advancing  was  still  a 


128  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Scotch  production.  Its  character  may  be  estimated  by  the 
names  I  have  mentioned;  and  by  the  fact  that  the  genius 
of  Scott  and  of  Jeffrey  had  made  it  the  seat  at  once  of  the 
most  popular  poetry,  and  the  most  brilliant  criticism  that 
then  existed.  This  city  has  advantages,  including  its  beirfg 
the  capital  of  Scotland,  its  old  reputation,  and  its  external 
beauties,  which  have  enabled  it,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  re- 
sist the  centralizing  tendency,  and  have  hitherto  always 
supplied  it  with  a  succession  of  eminent  men.  But,  now 
that  London  is  at  our  door,  how  precarious  is  our  hold  of 
them,  and  how  many  have  we  lost.* 

It  was  in  this  community  that  Jeffrey  now  began  to  rise. 
It  required  some  years  more  to  work  off  the  prejudices  that 
had  obstructed  him,  but  his  genuine  excellence  did  work 
them  off  at  last ;  till,  from  being  tolerated,  he  became 
liked ;  from  being  liked,  popular ;  from  being  popular, 
necessary  ;  and  in  the  end  was  wrapped  "in  the  whole  love 
of  the  place.  His  favourite  social  scenes,  next  to  his  strict- 
ly private  ones,  were  the  more  select  parties  where  intellect 
was  combined  with  cheerfulness,  and  good  talk  with  sim- 
plicity. But  though  a  great  critic  of  social  manners,  no 
one  was  less  discomposed  by  vulgarities  or  stupidities,  if 
combined  with  worth,  when  they  fell  in  his  way.  No  clever 
talking  man  could  have  more  tolerance  than  he  had  for 

*  There  could  scarcely  have  been  a  more  interesting  work  than  one 
that  described  the  progress  of  manners  in  Scotland  from  about  1740  to 
1800,  including  accounts  of  the  curious  and  distinguished  people  who 
rose  during  these  sixty  years.  From  about  1800,  every  thing  purely 
Scotch  has  been  fading.  A  good  exhibition  of  the  old  habits,  and  of  the 
eminent  and  picturesque  men  who  then  existed,  but  were  passing  away, 
would  have  derived  a  deeper  interest  from  the  certainty  that  no  such 
national  peculiarities  could  be  much  longer  retained.  But  such  a  pic- 
ture could  only  have  proceeded  from  a  man  of  observation  and  intelli- 
gence, who  had  lived  in  the  very  scenes,  and  either  collected  his  materials 
at  the  time,  or  wrote  from  a  vigilant  and  candid  memory.  It  is  to  be 
fesired  that  it  can  never  be  done  how.  But  the  whole  previous  history 
of  Scotland  fumishes-no  such  subject. 


DEATH    OF    HIS    SISTER.  129 

common-place  people ;  a  class,  indeed,  to  which  many  of 
his  best  friends  belonged.  I  have  heard  him,  when  the  su- 
percilious were  professing  to  be  shocked  by  such  persons, 
thank  God  that  he  had  never  lost  his  taste  for  bad  com- 
pany. 

He  had  only  returned  from  London  a  few  days,  when  he 
lost  his  sister,  Mrs.  Napier — a  severe  affliction ;  which  he 
announced  to  his  remaining  sister,  Mrs.  Brown,  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter,  of  the  18th  of  May,  1804 : — «  My  dearest 
Mainie,  About  the  time  that  I  received  your  letter  of  anx- 
ious inquiry  this  morning,  your  husband  would  receive  the 
melancholy  answer.  We  are  a  little  more  composed  now, 
but  this  has  been  a  very  heavy  blow  upon  us  all,  and  much 
more  so  on  me  than  I  had  believed  possible.  The  habit 
of  seeing  her  almost  every  day,  and  of  living  intimately 
together  since  our  infancy,  had  wound  so  many  threads  of 
affection  round  my  heart,  that  when  they  were  burst  at 
once,  the  shock  was  almost  overwhelming.  Then  the  un- 
equalled gentleness  of  her  disposition,  the  unaffected  worth 
of  her  affections,  and  miraculous  simplicity  of  character 
and  manners,  which  made  her  always  appear  as  pure  and 
innocent  as  an  infant,  took  so  firm,  though  gentle  a  hold 
on  the  heart  of  every  one  who  approached  her, — that  even 
those  who  are  comparatively  strangers  to  her  worth,  have 

been  greatly  afflicted  by  her  loss 

During  the  whole  of  her  illness  she  looked  beautiful,  and 
when  I  gazed  upon  her  the  moment  after  she  had  breathed 
her  last,  as  she  lay  still  and  calm,  with  her  bright  eyes 
half  closed,  and  her  red  lips  half  open,  I  thought  I  had 
never  seen  a  countenance  so  lovely.  A  statuary  might 
have  taken  her  for  a  model.  Poor  dear  love,  I  kissed  her 
cold  lips,  and  pressed  her  cold  wan  lifeless  hand,  and  would 
willingly  at  that  moment  have  put  off  my  own  life  too  and 
followed  her.  When  I  came  here  the  sun  was  rising,  and 
the  birds  were  singing  gaily,  as  I  sobbed  along  the  empty 
streets.  I  thought  my  heart  would  have  burst  at  that  mo- 
I 


130  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

ment,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  forget  the  agitation  I 
then  suffered." 

He  never  forgot  another  thing.  His  affection  for  her 
who  was  gone,  was  continued  for  her  children,  to  whom  he 
was  ever  a  kind  and  faithful  uncle.  The  duties  of  that 
relationship  could  not  be  performed  with  greater  fidelity  or 
love.  They  deserved  his  kindness ;  but  it  was  also  a  con- 
stantly renewed  homage  to  the  memory  of  their  mother. 

A  letter  to  Homer  (28th  October,  1804)  contains  a  pre- 
diction, which,  had  Homer's  life  been  spared,  would  very 
probably  have  been  realised. — "  Betty's  book  (he  means 
Miss  Hamilton)  has  not  reached  me  yet.  I  mean  to  be 
merciful,  if  I  touch  her  at  all.  To  say  the  truth,  I  am 
sick  of  abusing*  I  have  not  been  writing  any  session  (law) 
papers,  nor  any  thing  half  so  good.  Nor  do  I  expect  to  be 
Lord  Advocate  till  you  are  Lord  Chancellor." 

Another  of  his  Edinburgh  friends  left  him  soon  after  this. 
"Nothing  (he  writes  to  Homer,  19th  November,  1804)  but 
emigration  to  London.  My  good  friend  Charles  Bell  is 
about  to  follow  your  cursed  example.  He  has  almost  de- 
termined to  fly,  and  to  take  shelter  in  the  great  asylum.  I 
have  a  very  great  affection  and  esteem  for  him,  and  can, 
moreover,  assure  you  that  you  will  find  him  very  modest, 
intelligent,  honourable,  grateful,  and  gentle." 

Severe  as  the  death  of  his  sister  had  been,  a  far  heavier 
calamity  now  fell  upon  him.  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  been  in 
feeble  health  for  some  time,  but  was  not  supposed  to  be  in 
danger,  when  on  the  8th  of  August,  1805,  she  died.  His 
utter  desolation  upon  this  unexpected  annihilation  of  all 
his  enjoyments  and  hopes  can  be  described  by  no  one  but 
himself.  He  told  his  brother  what  happened  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter: — "Edinburgh,  15th  August,  1805. — My 
dear  John,  I  am  at  this  moment  of  all  men  the  most  mi- 
serable and  disconsolate.  It  is  just  a  week  to-day  since 
my  sweet  Kitty  died  in  my  arms,  and  left  me  without  joy, 
or  hope,  or  comfort,  in  this  world.  Her  health  had  been 


DEATH    OF   MRS.  JEFFREY.  131 

long  very  delicate,  and  during  this  summer  rather  more 
disordered  than  usual ;  but  we  fancied  she  was  with  child, 
and  rather  looked  forward  to  her  complete  restoration. 
She  was  finally  seized  with  the  most  excruciating  head- 
aches, which  ended  in  an  effusion  of  water  on  the  brain, 
and  sank  her  into  a  lamentable  stupor,  which  terminated 
in  death.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  describe  to  you  the 
feeling  of  lonely  and  hopeless  misery  with  which  I  have 
since  been  oppressed.  I  doted  upon  her,  I  believe,  more 
than  man  ever  did  on  a  woman  before ;  and  after  four  years 
of  marriage,  was  more  tenderly  attached  to  her  than  on 
the  day  which  made  her  mine.  I  took  no  interest  in  any 
thing  which  had  not  some  reference  to  her,  and  had  no  en- 
joyment away  from  her,  except  in  thinking  what  I  should 
have  to  tell  or  to  show  her  on  my  return  ;  and  I  have  never 
returned  to  her,  after  half  a  day's  absence,  without  feeling 
my  heart  throb,  and  my  eye  brighten,  with  all  the  ardour 
and  anxiety  of  a  youthful  passion.  All  the  exertions  I  ever 
made  in  the  world  were  for  her  sake  entirely.  You  know 
how  indolent  I  was  by  nature,  and  how  regardless  of  repu- 
tation and  fortune.  But  it  was  a  delight  to  me  to  lay  these 
things  at  the  feet  of  my  darling,  and  to  invest  her  with 
some  portion  of  the  distinction  she  deserved,  and  to  in- 
crease the  pride  and  the  vanity  she  felt  for  her  husband, 
by  accumulating  these  public  tests  of  his  merit.  She  had 
so  lively  a  relish  for  life  too,  and  so  unquenchable  and  un- 
broken a  hope  in  the  midst  of  protracted  illness  and  languor, 
that  the  stroke  which  cut  it  off  for  ever  appears  equally 
cruel  and  unnatural.  Though  familiar  with  sickness,  she 
seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  death.  She  always  re- 
covered so  rapidly,  and  was  so  cheerful,  and  affectionate, 
and  playful,  that  it  scarcely  entered  into  my  imagination 
that. there  could  be  one  sickness  from  which  she  would  not 
recover.  We  had  arranged  several  little  projects  of  amuse- 
ment for  the  autumn,  and  she  talked  of  them,  poor  thing, 
with  unabated  confidence  and  delight,  as  long  as  she  was 


132  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 


to  talk  coherently  at  all.  I  have  the  consolation  to 
think  that  the  short  time  she  passed  with  me  was  as  happy 
as  love  and  hope  could  make  it.  In  spite  of  her  precarious 
health,  she  has  often  assured  me  that  she  was  the  happiest 
of  women,  and  would  not  change  her  condition  with  any 
human  creature.  Indeed  we  lived  in  a  delightful  progress 
of  every  thing  that  could  contribute  to  our  felicity.  Every 
thing  was  opening  and  brightening  before  us.  Our  cir- 
cumstances, our  society,  were  rapidly  improving,  our  under- 
standings were  expanding,  and  even  our  love  and  confi- 
dence in  each  other  increasing  from  day  to  day.  Now,  I 
have  no  interest  in  any  thing,  and  no  object  or  motive  for 
being  in  the  world.  I  wish  you  had  known  my  Kitty,  for 
I  cannot  describe  her  to  you,  and  nobody  else  knows  enough 
of  her.  The  most  peculiar  and  ennobling  part  of  her  cha- 
racter was  a  high  principle  of  honour,  integrity,  and  gene- 
rosity, that  would  have  been  remarkable  in  a  man,  and 
which  I  never  met  with  in  a  woman  before.  She  had  no 
conception  of  prevaricating,  shuffling,  or  disguising.  There 
was  a  clear  transparency  in  her  soul,  without  affectation  or 
reserve,  which  won  your  implicit  confidence,  and  com- 
manded your  respect.  Then  she  was  the  simplest  and  most 
cheerful  of  human  beings  ;  the  most  unassuming,  easy,  and 
affectionate;  dignified  in  her  deportment,  but  affable  and 
engaging  in  conversation.  Her  sweetness  and  cheerfulness 
in  sickness  won  the  hearts  of  all  who  came  near  her.  She 
was  adored  by  her  servants,  and  has  been  wept  for  by  her 
physicians,  by  the  chairmen  who  used  to  carry  her,  and  the 
tradesmen  with  whom  she  dealt.  0  !  my  dear  John,  my 
heart  is  very  cold  and  heavy,  and  my  prospect  of  life  every 
way  gloomy  and  deplorable.  I  had  long  been  accustomed 
to  place  all  my  notions  of  happiness  in  domestic  life  ;  and 
I  had  found  it  there,  so  pure,  perfect,  and  entire,  that  I 
can  never  look  for  it  any  where  else,  or  hope  for  it  .in  any 
other  form.  Heaven  protect  you  from  the  agony  it  has  im- 
posed upon  me.  Write  me  soon  to  say  that  you  are  happy, 


DEATH   OF   MRS.  JEFFREY.  133 

and  that  you  and  your  Susan  will  love  me.  My  heart  is 
shut  at  this  time  .to  every  thing  but  sorrow,  but  I  think  it 
must  soon  open  to.  affection.  All  your  friends  here  are 
well.  I  shall  write  you  again  soon.  Ever,  my  dear  John, 
most  affectionately  yours." — F.  J. 

All  his  letters  upon  this  bereavement  are  fraught  with 
the  same  tenderness  and  despair.  He  never,  before  or 
after,  was  in  such  suffering,  or  in  such  danger.  Mrs.  Jef- 
frey was  sensible,  cheerful,  affectionate,  and  natural ;  well 
qualified  to  recommend  him,  and  to  gratify  that  strong  home 
taste  on  which,  amidst  all  his  worldly  gayety,  his  real  en- 
joyment almost  wholly  depended.*  When  his  first  fabric 
of  happiness  was  overthrown,  and  he  was  left  to  the  loneli- 
ness of  His  own  house,  with  his  wife  and  child  in  their 
graves,  and  neither  brother  nor  sister  beside  him,  there  was 
reason  to  fear  that  his  sensibility  would  be  too  deeply  and 
too  permanently  agitated  to  admit  of  his  carrying  on  the 
progress  in  which  he  had  been  so  steadily  advancing.  But 
his  good  sense  and  resolute  principle  prevailed,  and  he  com- 
pelled himself  to  adhere  to  the  course  of  his  prescribed 
life.  Neither  the  Review  nor  his  profession  were  aban- 
doned :  society,  instead  of  being  renounced,  was  resorted 
to  .more  largely  as  an  interruption  to  the  bitterness  of  his 
domestic  solitude.*  Seen  externally,  he  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  one  on  whose  heart  sorrow  sat  lightly.  But 
the  truth  was  told  to  Homer. — (12th  October  1805.) 

"I  thank  you  for  the  repeated  inquiries  into  the  state 
of  my  feelings.  I  do  not  think  that  time  has  made  any 
great  change  on  them  ;  yet  you  will  find  me  social  enough, 
and  even  gay  in  society.  I  cannot  bear  to  talk  of  what  en- 
grosses almost  all  my  thoughts,  and  tremble  at  the  idea  of 


*  The  gentle  and  pious  Cowper,  when  in  one  of  his  afflictions,  tells 
Newton  (3d  August  1781)  that  "Dissipation  itself  would  be  welcome  to 
me,  so  that  it  were  not  a  vicious  one ;  but,  however  earnestly  invited,  it 
is  coy,  and  keeps  at  a  distance." 

12 


184  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

suggesting  to  those  about  me  the  bitter  recollections  on, 
•which  I  am  secretly  dwelling.  My  friends  at  a  distance 
know  much  more  of  the  state  of  my  mind  than  those  who 
-are  near  me.  I  can  write,  or  rather  I  cannot  help  writing, 
about  them,  but  I  cannot  speak.  The  sight  of  a  serene 
countenance,  the  sound  of  a  cheerful  voice,  locks  up  my 
heart.  I  have  never  shed  a  tear  in  the  sight  of  any  male 
being,  but  George  Bell,  whom  I  have  known  from  my 
infancy,  and  who  was  acquainted  with  my  poor  Kitty  for 
years  before  we  were  married.  I  will  tell  you  honestly  the 
state  of  my  mind,  my  dear  Homer,  because  I  know  you 
will  neither  despise  me  dor  wonder  at  me.  I  am  inwardly 
sick  of  life,  and  take  no  serious  interest  in  any  of  the  ob- 
jects it  offers  to  me.  I  receive  amusement  from  its  com- 
mon occurrences  very  nearly  as  formerly ;  but  I  have  no 
longer  any  substantial  happiness,  and  every  thing  that 
used  to  communicate  it  oppresses  me.  My  imagination  and 
my  understanding  are  exercised  as  they  used  to  be,  but  my 
heart  is  dead  and  cold ;  and  I  return  from  these  mechani- 
cal and  habitual  exertions  to  weep  over  my  internal  deso- 
lation, and  to  wonder  why  I  linger  here." 

Notwithstanding  this,  strong  reason,  and  a  strong  sense 
of  duty,  made  him  resist  despair  and  cling  to  his  living 
friendships,  and  adhere  to  the  performance  of  all  his  tasks ; 
and  time  began  to  work  its  miracle. 

The  13th  number  of  the  Review,  in  October,  1805,  con- 
tained an  article  by  him  on  Southey's  Madoc.  Most  people 
reading  that  paper  now,  and  considering  the  oblivion  into 
which  the  poem  has  fallen,  will  be  surprised  at  the  praise 
given  to  it,  and  at  the  striking  beauties  pointed  out.  But 
as  it  also  pointed  out  great  defects,  of  course  the  author's 
anger  was  much  beyond  his  gratitude.  Mr.  Southey  came 
to  Edinburgh  on  the  12th  of  October,  and  the  article  was 
sent  to  him  before  it  was  given  to  the  public.  Jeffrey  tells 
Mr.  Horner  in  a  letter  dated  that  day,  that  "  Southey  is 
to  be  here  to-day  with  P.  Elmsley.  I  mean  to  let  him  read 


MR.    SOUTHET.  135 

my  review  of  Madoc  before  I  put  myself  in  the  way  of 
meeting  with  him.  He  is  too  much  a  man  o'f  the  world,  I 
believe,  in  spite  of  his  poesy,  to  decline  seeing  me,  what- 
ever he  may  think  of  the  critic."  They  met  after  this, 
and,  among  other  places,  at  the  Friday  Club  ;  and  this  is 
Southey's  impression  of  his  new  acquaintance  : — "  I  have 
seen  Jeffrey,  &c.  I  met  him  in  good  humour,  being,  by 
God's  blessing,  of  a  happy  temper.  Having  seen  him, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  be  angry  at  any  thing  so  dimi- 
nutive. We  talked  upon  the  question  of  taste,  on  which 
we  are  at  issue;  he  is  a  mere  child  upon  that  subject.  I 
never  met  with  a  man  who  it  was  so  easy  to  checkmate." 
—(Letter  to  Will.  Taylor,  22d  October,  1805,  in  Robberd's 
Life  of  Taylor,  vol.  ii.  p.  101.)  Jeffrey's  being  a  child  in 
taste  and  easily  checkmated  in  discussion,  will  probably 
strike  those  who  knew  him  as  novelties  in  his  character. 
He  was  much  more  likely  to  have  played  on  in  spite  of  the 
check  or  to  have  prevented  his  antagonist  from  seeing  that 
it  had  been  given. 

In  spring  of  1806,  another,  and  the  last  of  the  emigra- 
tions of  his  comrades,  took  place  by  the  departure  for 
London  of  Mr.  John  Richardson,  now  of  Kirklands,  and 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  respectable  body  of 
Scotch  solicitors  there.  He  is  already  favourably  known 
to  the  public  by  the  biographies  of  his  friends  Scott  and 
Campbell ;  and  the  more  that  the  lives  of  others  of  the 
best  literary  men  of  his  time  shall  be  disclosed,  the  more 
will  his  merit  as  their  associate  appear.  Few  persons  have 
combined  with  greater  success,  and  with  less  ostentation, 
the  regular  toil  of  a  laborious  profession,  with  the  indul- 
gence of  a  literary  taste.  Had  he  followed  the  bent  of  his 
inclination,  literature  would  probably  have  been  his  voca- 
tion. But  he  has  done  much  better,  were  it  only  by  the 
example  which  he  has  set.  lie  knew  Jeffrey  in  the  days 
of  the  Lawnmarket,  from  which  beginning  there  was  no- 
thing but  friendship  ever  between  them.  So  far  back  as 


136  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

1801,  (17th  March,)  Jeffrey,  writing  to  Campbell,  who  had 
arranged  a  journey  with  Richardson  to  Germany,  says: — 
"  Among  other  things,  I  envy  you  not  a  little  for  your 
companion.  I  do  not  know  any  man  with  whom  a  con- 
stant and  intimate  society  would  be  so  pleasing.  He  has 
a  gentleness  of  character  that  must  soften  vexation,  and 
make  fretfulness  ashamed ;  and  he  is  the  only  person  I 
have  ever  met  with  who  had  all  the  enthusiasm  and  simpli- 
city of  the  romantic  character,  without  one  shade  either  of 
its  pedantry  or  its  ridicule." 

The  Whigs  were  in  office  from  the  end  of  1805  to  April, 
1807.  But  deeply  as  Jeffrey  reverenced  their  principles, 
and  powerfully  as  he  ever  maintained  their  cause,  this 
gleam  of  their  success  made  no  change  in  his  position, 
and,  except  on  public  grounds,  seems  not  to  have  interested 
his  thoughts.  He  joined  the  people  of  Scotland  in  the  few 
and  slight  efforts  for  their  political  elevation  which  they 
could  then  make.  But  the  local  managers  of  the  govern- 
ment had  an  inadequate  idea  of  his  importance  ;  and  his 
relations  to  them  were  not  improved  by  an  article  which 
had  appeared  in  the  Review  (No.  8,  art.  8)  on  a  work  on 
political  economy  by  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale,  and  had  given 
mortal  offence  to  the  noble  author,  who  acted  as  the  Scotch 
minister ;  which  offence  had  not  been  assuaged  by  certain 
pamphlets  on  both  sides,  by  which  the  criticism  had  been 
succeeded. 

In  summer  of  1806,  he  revisited  London  with  Mr. 
Thomson  and- Mr.  Murray.  The  16th  number  of  the  Re- 
view had  been  published  shortly  before.  It  contained  an 
article  which  produced  a  temporary  difference  between  him 
and  Moore.  It  was  a  criticism  by  Jeffrey  on  Moore's 
"  Epistles,  Odes,  and  other  Poems,"  and  contained  as  se- 
vere a  condemnation  of  these  productions,  on  the  ground 
of  their  immorality,  as  the  English  language,  even  when 
wielded  by  Jeffrey,  could  express.  The  critic,  of  course, 
was  to  be  supposed  to  hat e  been  only  discussing  the  book ; 


AFFAIR  WITH  MOORE.  187 

but  there  was  a  cordiality,  and  a  personal  application  in 
the  censure,  which  made  it  natural  for  the  public,  and 
nearly  irresistible  for  the  author,  to  refer  it  to  the  man. 
This  (no  matter  through  what  details)  led  to  a  hostile  meet- 
ing near  London,  on  the  llth  of  August,  1806,  when  Hor- 
ner  acted  as  Jeffrey's  friend.  The- police,  fortunately,  had 
discovered  what  was  intended,  and  suddenly  apprehended 
the  parties  when  they  were  in  the  very  act  of  proceeding 
to  the  very  last  extremity.*  Being  bound  over  to  keep 
the  peace  in  this  country,  they  were  very  nearly  going 
over  to  Hamburgh  ;  but  a  little  explanation  made  this  un- 
necessary. Mr:  Moore  withdrew  a  defiance  which  he  had 
given  on  the  idea  that  the  imputations  were  personal ;  on 
which  Jeffrey  declared  that  he  had  meant  them  to  be  only 
literary ;  and  the  quarrel  was  ended.  The  following  is 
Jeffrey's  account  of  the  matter  to  George  Joseph  Bell, 
(22d  August,  1806)  :— 

« I  am  happy  to  inform  you  that  the  business  is  at  length 
amicably  settled.  Moore  agreed  to  withdraw  his  defiance ; 
and  then  I  had  no  hesitation  in  assuring  him  (as  I  was 
ready  to  have  done  at  the  beginning,  if  he  had  applied 
amicably)  that  in  writing  the  review  I  considered  myself 
merely  as  the  censor  of  the  morality  of  his  book,  and  that 
I  intended  to  assert  nothing  as  to  the  personal  motives  or 
personal  character  of  the  author,  of  whom  I  had  no  know- 
ledge at  the  time.  Those,  I  think,  are  the  words  of  my 
explanation.  We  have  since  breakfasted  together  very 
lovingly.  He  has  confessed  his  penitence  for  what  he  has 


*  On  reaching  the  police-office  it  was  found  that  Jeffrey's  pistol  con- 
tained no  bullet  then;  either  because  it  must  have  dropped  out  when 
the  officer  snatched  it  from  him,  or  afterward  in  the  officer's  hands.  Mr. 
Moore's  bullet  was  still  in  his  pistol,  and  Mr.  Horner  was  certain  that 
one  had  been  put  into  Jeffrey's.  Yet  Byron  thought  it  worth  while,  but 
only  under  the  ferocity  of  the  English  Bard  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  to 
sneer  at  "Little's  leadless pistol ;"  Little's,  moreover,  being  the  one  that 

was  not  leadless. 

12* 


138  LIFE   OP   LORD  JBFFRBY. 

written,  and  declared  that  he  will  never  again  apply  any 
little  talent  he  may  possess,  to  such  purposes ;  and  I  have 
said,  that  I  shall  be  happy  to  praise  him  whenever  I  find 
that  he  has  abjured  those  objectionable  topics.  You  are 
too  severe  upon  the  little  man.  He  has  behaved  with  great 
spirit  throughout  this  business.  He  really  is  not  profligate, 
and  is  universally  regarded,  even  by  those  who  resent  the 
style  of  his  poetry,  as  an  innocent,  good-hearted,  idle  fel- 
low. If  he  comes  to  Scotland,  as  he  talks  of  doing  in  No- 
vember, I  hope  you  will  not  refuse  to  sit  down  with  him  at 
my  table.  We  were  very  near  going  to  Hamburgh  after  we 
had  been  bound  over  here  ;  but  it  is  much  better  as  it  is.  I 
am  glad  to  have  gone  through  this  scene,  both  because  it 
satisfies  me  that  my  nerves  are  good  enough  to  enable  me 
to  act  in  conformity  to  my  notions  of  propriety  without 
any  suffering,  and  because  it  also  assures  me  that  I  am 
really  as  little  in  love  with  life,  as  I  have  been  for  some 
time  in  the  habit  of  professing." 

The  sincerity  of  this  last  sentiment  was  confirmed  by  Mr. 
Horner,  who  told  Sir  Charles  Bell  that,  with  all  his  "  ad- 
miration of  Jeffrey's  intrepidity,  he  feared  there  was  much 
indifference  of  life."- — (Note  by  Bell  at  the  time.)  In  a  day 
or  two  the  critic  and  the  criticised  met  amicably,  and  were 
friends  ever  after.  Jeffrey  did  not  merely  admire  the  ge- 
nius of  his  adversary,  but,  after  he  knew  him,  had  a  sincere 
affection  and  respect  for  the  man.  Moore  delights  to  tell, 
in  one  of  his  prefaces,  that  "  in  the  most  formidable  of  all 
my  censors,  the  great  master  of  criticism  in  our  day,  I 
have  found  since  one  of  the  most  cordial  of  all  my  friends." 
He  came  to  Scotland,  chiefly  to  visit  Jeffrey,  in  1825 ;  and 
was  asked  so  often  to  sing  his  last  new  song,  "Ship  ahoy," 
that,,  in  another  preface,  he  says  that  » the  upland  echoes 
of  Craigcrook  ought  long  to  have  had  its  burden  by  heart." 

After  this  affair,  leaving  Thomson  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum, Jeffrey  went  with  Horner  and  Murray,  and  visited 
the  southern  coast  of  England.  This  was  one  of  his  many 


SOUTH    OF   ENGLAND.  131) 

journeys  for  scenery  alone.  They  were  more  frequent 
with  him  than  is  usual  with  busy  men,  and  he  was  never 
satiated  by  revisiting  places,  which,  though  their  novelty 
was  gone,  were  hallowed  by  beauty  in  his  imagination.  He 
walked,  when  very  young,  with  his  friend  Dr.  •  Maton, 
through  the  then  solitary  valleys  of  Wales.  Many  a  time 
did  he  and  Morehead  explore  the  lakes  and  the  mountains 
of  Scotland  ;  and  there  was  as  much  of  the  genuine  enjoy- 
ment of  nature,  as  much  affection  and  speculation,  and  as 
many  fresh-made  sonnets,  in  one  of  their  foot  and  knap- 
sack expeditions,  as  in  some  journeys  of  greater  pretension. 
This  sensibility  to  the  attractions  of  nature  transpires  in 
all  his  writings.  The  very  reverse  of  this  quality  was 
sometimes  imputed  to  him  by  those  who  had  an  interest  in 
depreciating  his  judgments.  Knowing  that  he  was  a  law- 
yer and  a  critic,  hard  trades,  they  thought  that  they  never 
could  be  far  wrong  in  asserting  that  he  had  neither  ro- 
mance nor  heart  for  nature.  It  is  possible  that  out  of  his 
masses  of  critical  disquisition,  especially  in  the  disputable 
regions  of  poetry,  angry  authors,  and  even  persons  in  a 
less  partial  position,  might  be  able  to  select  passages  indi- 
cating what  they  may  plausibly  represent  as  a  cold  or 
artificial  taste.  But  these  blots,  if  they  exist,  of  which  I 
am  not  aware,  are  very  few,  and  entirely  accidental ;  and 
are  extinguished  by  countless  examples  of  an  opposite  de- 
scription, and  by  the  general  character  of  his  writings. 

He  seems  to  have  expected  solitude  in  the  south  of  Eng- 
land in  autumn  ;  and  of  course  was  tormented  every  where 
by  the  outpourings  of  London.  "  For  my  own  part,  I 
think  it  a  great  annoyance,  and  am  a  thousand  times  bet- 
ter pleased  with  pacing  alone  on  the  lovely  sands,  than  in 
renewing  a  London  life,  in  small  hot  apartments,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  eternal  sophistications  of  indolent  coquetry  and 
languid  derision."  "  I  am  every  hour  more  convinced  of 
the  error  of  those  who  look  for  happiness  in  any  thing  but 
concentrated  and  tranquil  affection ;  and  the  still  more 


LIFE    OF   LOUD   JEFFREY. 

miserable  error  of  those  who  think  to  lessen  the  stupidity 
of  a  heartless  existence,  by  a  laborious  course  of  amuse- 
inc'iita,  and  by  substituting  the  gratification  of  a  restless 
vanity  for  the  exercise  of  the  heart  and  understanding.  If 
I  were  to  live  a  hundred  years  in  London,  I  should  never 
be  seduced  into  that  delusion.  So  you  will  not  tell  me  what 
bracelets  you  would  like,  say  at  least  whether  you  mean 
clasps,  or  bracelets." — (To  Mrs.  Morehead,  from  Bognor 
Rocks,  25th  August,  1806.) 

He  tried  to  escape,  and  crossed  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  but 
found  the  same  thing  there.  "  I  am  glad  (to  Mr.  More- 
head,  28th  August,  1806,)  to  have  seen  these  people,  and 
some  of  them  I  should  like  to  see  again,  but  I  could  not 
live  among  them.  That  eternal  breaking  of  time  and  affec- 
tion, by  living  in  a  crowd,  and  attending  to  a  thousand 
things  together,  would  never  suit  my  notions  of  happiness 
or  respectability.  I  languish  perpetually  for  the  repose 
and  tranquillity  of  rational  and  domestic  society  ;  the  quiet- 
ness of  the  heart,  and  the  activity  of  the  imagination  only. 
You  have  found  this,  my  dear  Bob,  and  I  have  lost  it  for 
ever." 

The  only  purely  Scotch  measure  that  the  "Whig  Govern- 
ment introduced  was  one  for  the  improvement  of  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice  ;  being  the  commencement  of  that 
succession  of  organic  judicial  changes  which  has  gone  on 
almost  ever  since.  .  Most  of  the  younger  Whig  lawyers  op- 
posed the  more  important  parts  of  the  scheme  patronised 
by  their  Whig  seniors,  as  unwise  in  principle,  and  unsuited 
to  the  condition  and  wants  of  Scotland.  The  party  lost  its 
power  before  its  object  could  be  accomplished,  and  a  more 
moderate  measure  was  soon  carried  by  its  successors.  The 
juniors  were  chiefly  guided  throughout  all  these  discussions 
by  Jeffrey ;  who,  besides  taking  a  lead  in  the  meetings  of 
the  Faculty,  wrote  a  paper  in  the  Keview  (No.  18,  article 
14,)  which,  though  Horner  calls  it  "  clever,  sceptical,  and 
flippant,"  (Memoirs,  vol.  ii.  p.  10,)  was  not  only  amusing, 


^  SCOTCH   JUDICIAL   CHANGES.  141 

but  sound.  It  suggested  considerations,  questioned  princi- 
ples, and  tended  to  abate  legal  bigotries.  His  opposition, 
and  that  of  his  followers,  was  honourable  to  them,  because 
what  they  chiefly  objected  to,  was  the  introduction  of  two 
or  three  high  judicial  offices,  which  were  notoriously  intend- 
ed for  their  own  political  friends,  while  better  men  of  the 
opposite  party,  such  as  Blair,  who  was  at  the  head  of  the 
bar,  were  to  be  set  aside. 

Mr.  John  Allen  seems  to  have  remonstrated  with  Jeffrey 
on  his  opposition ;  to  which  Jeffrey  answers  (17th  March, 
1807,) — "What  is  thought  of  the  bill  now?  and  what  is 
thought  of  us,  and  of  our  virtue  ?  I  am  myself  most  anx- 
ious for  reform  and  for  great  change  ;  but  I  cannot  dissem- 
ble my  suspicions  of  jobbism.  It  is  nonsense  to  say  that 
this  kind  of  opposition  endangers  the  whole  measure.  It 
is  infinitely  more  endangered  by  the  doings  to  which  we 
are  opposed.  I  shall  believe  that  the  supporters  of  the 
scheme  are  seriously  persuaded  of  the  utility  of  a  Scottish 
Chancellor  and  Court  of  Review,  when  I  hear  that  they  are 
to  offer  it  to  Blair,  who  is  best  entitled  to  it.  At  the  same 
time,  you  know  that  I  love  the  Whigs,  and  it  grieves  me  to 
see  that  they  will  act  like  placemen." 

The  material  step  of  reconstructing  the  court,  by  di- 
viding it  into  two  chambers,  was  soon  effected  by  the  new 
Government ;  and,  to  the  delight  of  all  fair  and  reasonable 
people,  Robert  Blair  was  raised  to  the  Presidency  of  the 
whole.  But,  alas !  in  two  years  he — one  of  the  most  up- 
right of  men,  and,  from  the  pure  weight  of  his  character, 
one  of  the  besi  liked  of  strict  and  dignified  judges — was 
followed  to  the  grave  by  the  sorrow  of  all  Edinburgh. 

Jeffrey  was  now  on  very  good  terms  with  all  the  judges; 
but  the  one  as  yet  on  the  bench  with  whom  he  was  most  on 
habits  of  personal  intercourse,  was  Allan  Maconochie,  Lord 
Meadowbank  ;  a  person  of  very  considerable  learning,  of 
singular  ingenuity,  and  of  restless  mental  activity.  No- 
thing (except  perhaps  mathematics)  came  amiss  to  him ;  but, 


142  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

besides  literature  and  metaphysics,  his  faVourite  subjects 
used  to  rise  out  of  any  views  connected  with  the  theoretical 
history  of  man  and  his  progress,  which,  being  inextricably 
involved  in  speculation,  had  peculiar  attractions  both  for 
him  and  for  Jeffrey.  He  was  a  very  able  judge ;  full  of 
varied  knowledge,  and  ready  at  all  times  for  an  argument, 
with  any  body,  upon  any  thing.  The  prospect  of  meeting 
with  this  powerful  and  entertaining  intellect  was  always  a 
temptation  to  Jeffrey  to  take  a  case  on  the  criminal  circuit ; 
and  although  he  sometimes  thought  my  lord  more  ingenious 
than  sound  in  court,  this  only  whetted  the  evening  discus- 
sion, where  the  one  was  as  good  as  the  other.  There  are 
several  such  incidents  as  this  in  his  letters,  and  always  with 
the  same  term  for  the  judge's  supposed  error — "  I  had  my 
trial  next  day,  where  I  made  a  merry  speech,  and  was. de- 
feated on  a  crotchet  of  Meadowbank's.  I  went  with  Wil- 
liam Erskine,  who  came  out  to  oppose  me,  to  the  ball  in 
the  evening ;  but  there  were  only  six  ladies  and  no  beau- 
ties, so  I  did  not  stay  long,  but  came  home  and  discussed 
with  Meadowbank."  His  lordship  died  in  1816. 

The  brothers  were  reduced  to  a  melancholy  similarity  of 
fate  by  the  death  of  John's  wife  at  Boston,  in  1806. 
Francis  gave  him  such  consolation  and  advice  as  his  own 
experience  supplied.  "  Come,  then,  my  dear  John,  as  soon 
as  you  can  desert  your  present  duties — come,  and  find  me 
as  affectionate,  and  unreserved,  and  domestic,  as  you  knew 
me  in  our  more  careless  days.  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to 
comfort  you,  and  revive  in  you  some  little  interest  in  life  ; 
though  I  cannot  undertake  to  restore  that  happiness,  which, 
when  once  cut  down,  revives  not  in  this  world." — "I  hope 
that,  even  at  present,  you  do  not  indulge  in  solitude.  I 
never  had  courage  for  it,  and  was  driven  by  a  cruel  instinct 
into  the  company  of  strangers." — (28th  January,  1807.) 
This  blow  could  not  sink  deeper  into  John  than  it  had  done 
into  Francis ;  but  he  was  graver  and  idler,  and  its  effects 
continued  longer. 


THE   GENERAL   ASSEMBLY.  143 

His  practice,  which  was  always  advancing,  included  the 
whole  of  our  courts,  civil,  criminal,  and  even  ecclesiastical, 
the  most  fee-less  of  them  all.  It  was  in  May,  1807,  that 
I  first  encountered  him  in  the  General  Assembly,  where  for 
the  next  twenty  years,  he  had  an  unchallenged  monopoly 
on  one  side.  A  seat,  as  a  member  in  that  house,  the  only 
established  popular  assembly  then  in  Scotland,  was  a  com- 
mon ambition  with  such  lawyers,  whether  at  the  bar  or  on 
the  bench,  as  were  anxious  about  a  certain  description  of 
party  affairs,  and  had  no  aversion  to  opportunities  of  dis- 
play. It  was  often  wrondered  how  Jeffrey  could  resist  being 
a  member.  But  he  was  indifferent  about  its  ordinary  busi- 
ness, and  thought  that  the  possession  of  its  bar,  though  its 
emoluments  were  scarcely  visible,  improved  his  general 
professional  position.  He  was  always  interested,  moreover, 
in  that  singular  place. 

It  is  a  sort  of  Presbyterian  convocation,  which  meets, 
along  with  a  commissioner  representing  the  Crown,  for 
about  twelve  days  yearly.  It  consists  of  about  200  clergy- 
men, and  about  150  lay  elders,  presided  over  by  a  reve- 
rend president,  called  the  Moderator,  who  is  elected  by  the 
Assembly  annually,  and  very  seldom  more  than  once.  Its 
jurisdiction  is  both  judicial  and  legislative.  As  an  eccle- 
siastical parliament,  it  exercises,  subject  to  very  ill-defined 
limitations,  a  censorian  and  corrective  authority  over  all 
the  evils  and  all  affairs  of  the  church.  As  a  court,  it  deals 
out  what  appears  to  it  to  be  justice  upon  all  ecclesiastical 
delinquencies  and  disputes.  Its  substance  survives,  but, 
in  its  air  and  tone,  it  has  every  year  been  degrading  more 
and  more  into  the  likeness  of  common  things ;  till  at  last 
the  primitive  features  which,  half  a  century  ago,  distin- 
guished it  from  every  other  meeting  of  men  in  this  country, 
have  greatly  faded.  Yet  how  picturesque  it  still  is  !  The 
royal  commissioner  and  his  attendants,  all  stiff,  brilliant, 
and  grotesque,  in  court  attire :  the  members  gathered 
from  every  part  of  the  country, — from  growing  cities,  lonely 


144  LIFE   OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

glens,  distant  islands,  agricultural  districts,  universities, 
and  fallen  burghs  ; — the  varieties  of  dialect  and  tone,  un- 
corrupted  fifty  years  ago  by  English  ; — the  kindly  greet- 
ings ; — the  social  arrangements  ; — the  party  plots  ;— the 
strangeness  of  the  subjects; — partly  theological,  partly  ju- 
dicial, partly  political,  often  all  mixed ; — of  the  deepest 
apparent  importance  to  the  house,  however  insignificant  or 
incomprehensible  to  others ; — the  awkwardness  of  their 
forms,  and  the  irregularity  of  their  application  ; — their  ig- 
norance of  business  ; — the  conscientious  intolerance  of  the 
rival  sects  ; — the  helplessness,  when  the  storm  of  disorder 
arises,  of  the  poor  shortlived  inexperienced  moderator; 
— the  mixture  of  clergy  and  laity,  of  nobility  and  common- 
ers, civilians  and  soldiers  ; — the  curious  efforts  of  oratory  ; 
— the  ready  laughter,  even  among  the  grim ; — and  conse- 
quently the  easy  jokes.  Higher  associations  arise  when 
we  think  of  the  venerable  age  of  the  institution ;  the  noble 
struggles  in  which  it  has  been  engaged  ;  the  extensive  use- 
fulness of  which  it  is  capable ;  and  the  eminent  men  and 
the  great  eloquence  it  has  frequently  brought  out ;  includ- 
ing, in  modern  times,  the  dignified  persuasiveness  of  Prin- 
cipal Robertson,  the  graceful  plausibility  of  Dr.  George 
Hill,  the  Principal's  successor  as  the  leader  of  the  church's 
majority,  the  manly  energy  of  Sir  Harry  Moncrieff,  and 
the  burning  oratory  of  Chalmers.  Connecting  every  juris- 
diction, and  every  member  of  the  church  (which  then  meant 
the  people),  into  one  body,  it  was  calculated  to  secure  the 
benefits,  without  the  dangers,  of  an  official  superintendence 
of  morals  and  religion  ;  and  to  do,  in  a  more  open  and  re- 
sponsible way,  for  the  Church  of  Scotland,  what  is  done, 
or  not  done  by  the  bishops  for  the  Churoh  of  England. 
Such  a  senate  might  have  continued  to  direct  and  control 
the  cheapest,  the  most  popular,  and  the  most  republican 
established  church  in  the  world.  Its  essential  defect  is  as 
a  court  of  justice.  Nothing  can  ever  make  a  mob- of  300 
people  a  safe  tribunal  for  the  decision  of  private  causes ; 


THE    GENERAL    ASSEMBLY.  145 

and  the  Assembly's  forms  are  framed  as  if  the  object  were 
to  aggravate  the  evil. 

It  met  in  those  days,  as  it  had  done  for  about  two  hun- 
dred years,  in  one  of  the  aisles  of  the  then  grey  and  vener- 
able cathedral  of  St.  Giles.  That  plain,  square,  galleried, 
apartment  was  admirably  suited  for  the  purpose  ;  the  more 
so  that  it  was  not  too  large  ;  and  it  was  more  interesting, 
from  the  men  who  had  acted  in  it,  and  the  scenes  it  had 
witnessed,  than  any  other  existing  room  in  Scotland.  It 
had  beheld  the  best  exertions  of  the  best  men  in  the  king- 
dom, ever  since  the  year  1640.  Yet  was  it  obliterated  in 
the  year  1880,  with  as  much  indifference  as  if  it  had  been 
of  yesterday ;  and  for  no  reason  except  a  childish  desire 
for  new  walls  and  change.  The  Assembly  sat  there  for 
the  last  time  in  May,  1829 ;  and  it  has  never  been  the 
Assembly  since. 

Its  bar,  though  beneath  him,  had  several  attractions  for 
Jeffrey.  It  needed  no  legal  learning,  and  no  labour  be- 
yond attendance  ;  but  always  required  judgment  and  man- 
agement; it  presented  excellent  opportunities  for  speaking, 
especially  as  the  two  inconvenient  checks  of  relevancy  and 
pertinency  were  seldom  in  rigid  observance ;  and  it  was  the 
most  popular  of  all  our  established  audiences.  He  con- 
stantly treated  them  to  admirable  speeches, — argumenta- 
tive, declamatory,  or  humorous,  as  the  occasion  might 
require.  Accordingly,  he  was  a  prodigious  favourite.  They 
felt  honoured  by  a  person  of  his  eminence  practising  before 
them  ;  and  their  liking  for  the  individual,  with  his  constant 
liberality  and  candour,  was  still  stronger  than  their  admi- 
ration of  his  talents,  and  even  their  detestation  of  his 
politics.  It  was  thought  a  dull  day  when  he  was  not  there. 
And  when  there,  he  could  say  and  do  whatever  he  chose ; 
but  never  risked  his  popularity  by  carelessness  or  pre- 
sumption ;  and  never  once  descended  to  the  vulgarity  of 
pleasing,  by  any  thing  unbecoming  a  counsel  of  the  highest 
character,  and  the  best  taste.  He  was  once  in  some  dan- 
K  13 


146  LIKE    OF   LOUD   JEFFUEY. 

ger,  when,  in  defending  a  clerical  client  against  a  charge 
of  drunkenness,  he  first  contested  the  evidence,  and  then 
assuming  it  to  be  sufficient,  tried  to  extenuate  the  offence ; 
and  among  other  considerations,  asked,  "Tjf  there  was  a 
single  reverend  gentleman  in  the  house  who  could  lay  his 
hand  on  his  heart,  and  say  that  he  had  never  been  overtaken 
by  the  same  infirmity?"  There  was  an  instant  roar  of  or- 
der, apology,  rebuke,  &c.  But  he  subdued  them  at  once, 
by  standing  till  they  were  quiet,  and  then  saying,  with  a 
half  innocent,  half  cunning  air, — "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
moderator, — it  was  entirely  my  ignorance  of  the  habits  of 
the  Church;"  and  the  offence  was  forgiven  in  a  general 
laugh. 

It  was  in  the  Assembly,  or  in  connection  with  its  busi- 
ness, that^he  first  became  acquainted  with  his  future  friend, 
the  late  Rev.  Sir  Harry  Moncrieff,  Bart. ;  whom  it  is  the 
more  necessary  to  mention,  because  there  was  no  one  who 
had  a  greater  influence  over  Jeffrey's  conduct  and  opinions, 
particularly  in  relation  to  Scotch  matters. 

This  eminent  person  was  not  merely  distinguished  among 
his  brethren  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  all  of  whom  leant 
upon  him,  but  was  in  other  respects  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able and  admirable  men  of  his  age.  Small  grey  eyes,  an 
acquiline  nose,  vigorous  lips,  a  noble  head,  and  the  air  of  a 
plain  hereditary  gentleman,  marked  the  outward  man.  The 
prominent  qualities  of  his  mind  were,  strong  integrity  and 
nervous  sense.  There  never  was  a  sounder  understanding. 
Many  men  were  more  learned,  many  more  cultivated,  and 
some  more  able.  But  who  could  match  him  in  sagacity 
and  mental  force  ?  The  opinions  of  Sir  Harry  Moncrieff 
might  at  any  time  have  been  adopted  with  perfect  safety, 
without  knowing  more  about  them  than  that  they  were  his. 
And  he  was  so  experienced  in  the  conduct  of  affairs,  that 
he  had  acquired  a  power  of  forming  his  views  with  what 
seemed  to  be  instinctive  acuteness,  and  with  a  decisiveness 
which  raised  them  above  being  lightly  questioned.  Nor 


SIR  HARRY   MONCRIEFF.  147 

was  it  the  unerring  judgment  alone  that  the  public  admired. 
It  venerated  the  honourable  heart  still  more.  A  thorough 
gentleman  in  his  feelings,  and  immoveably  honest  in  his 
principles,  his  whole  character  was  elevated  into  moral  ma- 
jesty. He  was  sometimes  described  as  overbearing.  And  in 
one  sense,  to  the  amusement  of  his  friends,  perhaps  he  was 
so.  Consulted  by  every  body,  and  of  course  provoked  by 
many,  and  with  very  undisciplined  followers  to  lead,  his  su- 
periority gave  him  the  usual  confidence  of  an  oracle ;  and 
this,  operating  on  a  little  natural  dogmatism,  made  him 
sometimes  seem  positive,  and  even  hard ;  an  impression 
strengthened  by  his  manner.  With  a  peremptory  conclu- 
siveness,  a  shrill  defying  voice,  and  a  firm  concentrated 
air,  he  appeared  far  more  absolute  than  he  really  was ;  for 
he  was  ever  candid  and  reasonable.  But  his  real  gentle- 
ness was  often  not  seen ;  for  if  his  first  clear  exposition 
did  not  convince,  he  was  not  unapt  to  take  up  a  short  dis- 
dainful refutation ;  which,  however  entertaining  to  the 
spectator,  was  not  always  comfortable  to  the  adversary. 
But  all  this  was  mere  manner.  His  opinions  were  uni- 
formly liberal  and  charitable,  and,  when  not  under  the 
actual  excitement  of  indignation  at  wickedness  or  danger- 
ous folly,  his  feelings  were  mild  and  benignant ;  and  he 
liberalised  his  mind  by  that  respectable  intercourse  with 
society  which  improves  the  good  clergyman,  and  the  ra- 
tional man  of  the  world. 

I  was  once  walking  with  him  in  Queen  Street,  within  the 
last  three  years  of  his  life.  A  person  approached  who  had 
long  been  an  illiberal  opponent  of  his,  and  for  whom  I  un- 
derstood that  he  had  no  great  regard.  I  expected  them 
to  pass  without  recognition  on  either  side.  But  instead  of 
this,  Sir  Harry,  apparently  to  the  man's  own  surprise, 
stopped,  and  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  spoke  kindly  to 
him.  When  they  separated,  I  said  to  Sir  Harry  that  I 
thought  he  had  not  liked  that  person.  «  Oh  !  No.  He's 


1 

148  LIFE   OP   LORD    JEFFREY. 

a  foolish,  intemperate  creature.  But  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  dislike  a  man  fewer  every  day  that  I  live  now."  When 
the  Whigs  were  in  office  in  1806,  one  of  his  ecclesiastical 
adversaries,  after  having  always  opposed  Catholic  eman- 
cipation, wrote  to  him  that  if  the  subject  should  be  renewed 
in  the  next  Assembly,  he  would  now  support  it.  It  was 
renewed,  but  by  that  time  the  Whigs  were  displaced ;  and 
that  very  person  opposed  it,  and  among  other  things  had 
the  audacity  to  say  that  he  could  not  comprehend  how  any 
Protestant  clergyman  could  encourage  Popery.  Sir  Harry 
was  in  great  indignation,  and  told  me  himself  that,  when 
answering  this,  he  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  was 
on  the  very  point  of  crushing  his  wavering  friend  by  pro- 
ducing and  reading  his  own  letter,  but  that  "  when  I  looked 

at '«  face  and  saw  his  wretchedness,  I  had  not  the 

heart  to  do  it."  These  were  not  the  feelings  of  a  hard 
man. 

His  great  instrument  of  usefulness  was  his  public  speak- 
ing ;  the  style  of  which  may  be  inferred  from  that  of  his 
intellect  and  manner.  In  the  pulpit,  where  he  was  elevated 
above  worldly  discord,  he  often  rose  into  great  views  and 
powerful  declamation  ;  and  he  was  the  noblest  deliverer  of 
prayers  at  striking  funerals.  But  though  these  profes- 
sional exertions  showed  his  powers,  it  was  chiefly  in  the 
contests  of  men  that  his  speaking  was  exerted,  and  was 
generally  known.  On  such  occasions  it  was  so  utterly  de- 
void of  ornament,  that  out  of  forty  years  of  debate,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  cull  one  sentence  of  rhetoric.  And, 
though  very  eloquent,  he  was  never  disturbed  _by  the  con- 
sciousness or  the  ambition  of  being  so.  It  was  never  the 
eloquence  of  words,  or  of  sentiments,  conceived  for  effect, 
but  of  a  high-minded  practical  man,  earnestly  impressed 
with  the  importance  of  a  practical  subject ;  and  who,  think- 
ing of  his  matter  alone,  dealt  in  luminous  and  powerful 
reasoning;  his  views  clearly  conceived,  and  stated  with 


SIR    HARRY    MONCRIEFF.  149 

simplicity  and  assuredness.  A  fearful  man  to  grapple 
with.* 

His  writing,  though  respectable,  was  feeble,  at  least  to 
those  who  knew  the  energy  of  his  speaking  language  and 
manner.  The  life  of  Dr.  John  Erskine  was  one  of  the  very 
best  subjects  for  Scotch  biography  of  the  last  age  ;  and  he 
has  not  made  the  most  of  it.  Except  in  very  short  wri- 
tings, on  subjects  of  instant  and  practical  importance,  his 
vigour  did  not  get  into  his  pen. 

As  almost  all  our  livings  belong  to  the  crown  or  land- 
owners, there  could  be  little  political  independence  in  the 
church  in  his  day.  This  made  his  merit  the  greater  in 
being  a  conspicuous  and  constant  Whig.  He  very  seldom 
mingled  in  the  secular  proceedings  of  the  party,  but  his 
opinions  were  well  known,  and  had  *  great  influence  with 
the  people,  to  whom  his  mere  name  was  a  tower  of  strength. 
Had  he  not  preferred  the  church  to  every  other  object, 
there  is  no  public  honour  to  which  he  might  not  have  fought 
his  way.  He  would  have  been  a  powerful  counsel  of  the 
highest  class,^n  admirable  judge,  a  first-rate  head  of  any 
important  public  department,  and  a  great  parliamentary 
leader.  His  conversation  was  excellent ;  spirited,  intelli- 
gent, and  natural ;  and  never  better  than  when  his  solid 
understanding  was  tried  against  the  speculative  playfulness 
of  Jeffrey.  They  were  cordial  friends,  and  Jeffrey  de- 
lighted especially  to  visit  him,  when  in  his  country-gentle- 
man condition,  in  his  feudal  tower  of  Tulliebole. 

The  Review  had  now  gone  on  above  six  years,  and  its 
periodical  appearance  was  looked  for  as  that  of  the  great 
exponent  of  what  people  should  think  on  matters  of  taste 
and  policy.  No  British  journal  had  ever  held  such  sway 

*  There  was  really  great  justice  in  the  remark  of  a  little  old  north 
country  minister,  who,  proud  both  of  himself  as  a  member,  and  of  the 
lleverend  Baronet  who  was  predominating  in  the  Assembly,  said  to  his 
neighbour,  "Preserve  me,  Sir!  hoo  that  man  Sir  Harry  does  go  on! 
lie.  puit  me  in  mind  <?'  Jupiter  among  the  less 
13* 


150  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

over  the  public  mind.  Nor  had  any  one  ever  approached 
it  in  extent  of  circulation.  Jeffrey's  own  contributions 
already  amounted  to  seventy-nine  articles,  furnished  to  the 
twenty-six  numbers  that  had  been  published ;  being  on  an 
average  above  one  article  every  month.  This  was  in  ad* 
dition  to  the  vexatious  labour  of  the  editorship,  and  while 
struggling  to  encourage  his  professional  practice,  and 
amidst  the  distress  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death,  and  a  nearly 
constant  immersion  in  society.  Nor  had  he  made  his  task 
easier  by  restricting  it  to  a  single  department,  or  to  few. 
Among  these  papers  are  profound  and  original  disquisitions 
on  many  of  the  most  difficult  subjects,  including  metaphy- 
sics, politics,  biography,  morals,  poetry,  travels,  political 
economy,  and  some  physical  science.  His  whole  opinions 
and  tastes  were  involved  in  these  articles. 

The  journal  was  thus  advancing  with  unexampled  and 
unchecked  success,  when,  in  February,  1809,  the  Quarter- 
ly appeared.  This  was  an  era  in  the  history  both  of  the 
Edinburgh  and  of  its  conductor.  The  Quarterly  was  his 
first,  and  indeed  throughout  the  whole  of  his  editorship,  his 
only  formidable  rival.  It  withdrew  Scott  from  his  alle- 
giance to  the  original  work ;  and  it  established  a  receptacle 
for  the  contributions  of  those,  against  whom,  from  its  opi- 
nions, the  Edinburgh  Review  was  closed. 

It  used  to  be  said  that  the  new  journal  was  an  unwilling 
result  of  the  dangerous  principles  of  the  previous  one, 
chiefly  on  the  war,  and  on  domestic  reform.  Its  various 
other  offences  might  have  been  forgiven  ;  but,  engaged  as 
we  were  in  a  struggle  for  existence,  there  could  be  no  tole- 
ration for  a  work  which  eagerly  obstructed  government  by 
inflaming  discontent  at  home,  and  encouraged  our  foreign 
enemy,  and  dispirited  the  people,  by  perpetual  demonstra- 
tions of  the  impossibility  of  our  succeeding  in  the  vital 
conflict.  The  provocation  given  by  years  of  this  miscon- 
duct was  said  to  have  been  so  aggravated  by  an  article 
published  in  October,  1808,  on  an  account  given  by  Don 


o 


RISE    OF   THE    QUARTERLY    REVIEW.  151 

Pedro  Cevallos,  of  the  French  usurpations  in  Spain,  that 
neither  patience  nor  friendship  could  endure  it  longer  ;  and 
that,  therefore,  the  incorrigible  journal  was  debarred,  as  it 
occasionally  had  been  before  (but  always  to  the  increase  of 
its  circulation),  from  the  houses  of  some  of  its  usual  read- 
ers,* and  a  work  on  more  patriotic  principles  was  resolved 
on.  Mr.  Jeffrey,  it  is  added,  had  been  warned  of  the  con- 
sequence of  his  rashness,  and  was  himself  so  sensible  of 
improprieties  to  which  he  had  at  least  been  accessory,  that 
he  had  actually  Engaged  to  Sir  Walter  Scott  "  that  no 
party  politics  should  appear  again  in  his  Review."  —  (Letter 
from  Scott  to  George  Ellis,  Dec.,  1808,  in  Lockhart's  Life 
of  Scott,  vol.  ii.  p.  219.) 

There  is  some  truth  in  all  this,  and  much  error. 

The  statement  by  Sir  Walter  implies  so  serious  a  charge, 
that  the  moment  it  appeared  several  of  Jeffrey's  friends 
advised  him  to  contradict  it,  if  it  was  incorrect.  But  he 
thought  that  the  idea  of  his  having  engaged,  after  party 
politics  had  been  the  right  leg  of  the  Review  for  above  six 
years,  that  there  should  be  no  more  party  politics  in  it,  and. 
then  continuing  to  put  as  much  of  them  into  it  as  ever,  was 
so  strange  that  no  body  could  fail  to  ascribe  it  to  mistake  ; 
and,  therefore,  he  allowed  it  to  remain  unanswered  for  seven 
years.  But  when  he  was  writing  the  preface  to  the  publi- 
cation of  his  Selected  Contributions,  in  the  end  of  1843, 
he  thought  that  a  natural  opportunity  of  noticing  it  had 
occurred  ;  and  he  made  a  very  graceful,  and,  towards  Scott, 
a  handsome  explanation.  Its  substance  is  that  Sir  Walter 
must  have  misunderstood  him;  probably  by  mistaking  a 

*  The  late  Earl  of  Buchan,  not  a  stupid,  but  a  very  vain  and  foolish 
man,  made  the  door  of  his  house  in  George  Street  be  opened,  and  the 
Cevallos  number  be  laid  down  on  the  innermost  part  of  the  floor  of  his 
lobby;  and  then,  after  all  this  preparation,  his  lordship,  personally, 
kicked  the  book  out  to  the  centre  of  the  street,  where  he  left  it  to  be  trod- 
den into  the  mud  ;  which  he  had  no  doubt  must  be  the  fate  of  the  whole 
work  —  after  this  open  proof  of  his  high  disapprobation. 


152  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

general  expression  of  a  desire  to  avoid  violent  politics,  for 
a  pledge  to  avoid  all  politics  ;  or  must  have  afterward 
expressed  himself  inaccurately  in  a  hasty  and  familiar 
letter.  There  is  no  one  who  considers  what  the  Review 
had  been,  and  what  it  continued  to  be,  and  what  Jeffrey's 
character  was,  to  whom  this  explanation  will  not  be  satis- 
factory. 

The  article  on  Cevallos  has  been  often  ascribed  to  a  diffe- 
rent person  ;  but  it  was  written  by  Jeffrey.  It  raised  a 
great  outcry,  which,  however,  was  not  owing  to  any  par- 
ticular guilt  in  that  paper  ;  for  it  is  not  worse  than  many 
that  had  gone  before  it  ;  but  it  happened  to  be  ill-timed. 
It.  dared  to  despair  of  what  was  then  called  the  regenera- 
tion of  Spain  ;  and  this  at  the  very  moment  when  most 
people's  hearts  were  agitated  with  delight  in  the  belief  that 
this  glorious  change  had  already  begun,  and  that  the  Pe- 
ninsula was  henceforth  to  be  inhabited  by  a  population  of 
patriots.  No  one  who  doubted  this  could  then  be  endured. 
But  it  was  not  this  solitary  article,  however  detestable,  that 
produced  the  rival  journal.  The  only  wonder  is,  how  it 
was  not  produced  sooner.  With  the  principles  of  the  popu- 
lar party  so  powerfully  maintained  in  one  publication,  it 
was  impossible  that  the  principles  of  the  opposite  party 
could  remain  undefended  by  another.  Had  Don  Pedro 
Cevallos  never  appeared,  and  had  the  subordinate  indiscre- 
tions of  the  existing  Review  been  all  avoided,  and  had  even 
its  political  matter  been  diluted  down  to  insignificance,  still, 
unless  its  public  tone  and  doctrines  had  been  positively 
reversed,  or  party  politics  altogether  excluded,  a  periodical 
work  in  defence  of  Church,  Tory,  and  War  principles,  must 
have  arisen  ;  simply  because  the  defence  of  these  principles 
required  it.  The  defence  was  a  consequence  of  the  attack. 
And  it  is  fortunate  that  it  was  so.  For  besides  getting 
these  opinions  fairly  discussed,  the  party  excesses  natural 
to  any  unchecked  publication  were  diminished  ;  and  a  work 
arose  which,  in  many  respects,  is  an  Honour  to  British  lite- 


POLITICAL   OPINIONS.  153 

rature,  and  has  called  out,  and  indirectly  reared,  a  great 
variety  of  the  highest  order  of  talent. 

Jeffrey's  feelings  on  seeing  the  first  number  of  his  rival, 
•were  these, — "  I  have  seen  the  Quarterly  this  morning.  It 
is  an  inspired  work,  compared  with  the  poor  prattle  of 
Cumberland.  But  I  do  not  think  it  very  formidable  ;  and 
if  it  were  not  for  our  offences,  I  should  have  no  fear  about 
its  consequences."  "  Tell  me  what  you  hear,  and  what  you 
think  of  this  new  Quarterly  ;  and  do  not  let  yourself  ima- 
gine that  I  feel  any  unworthy  jealousy,  and  still  less  any 
unworthy  fear  on  the  occasion.  My  natural  indolence 
would  have  been  better  pleased  not  to  be  always  in  sight 
of  an  alert  and  keen  antagonist.  But  I  do  rejoice  at  the 
prospect  of  this  kind  of  literature,  which  seems  to  be  more 
and  more  attended  to  than  any  other,  being  generally  im- 
proved in  quality,  and  shall  be  proud  to  have  set  an  exam- 
ple."—(To  Horner,  4th  March,  1809.) 

The  favourite  imputation,  that  the  politics  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review  were  all  merely  intended  to  facilitate  the  re- 
turn of  the  Whigs  to  power,  in  so  far  as  it  was  meant  to 
impute  dishonesty  or  factiousness  to  its  conductor,  are  am- 
ply refuted  by  the  knowledge  of  all  his  friends  of  his  des- 
interested  sincerity,  and  of  the  fact  that  on  many  occa- 
sions he  gave  great  offence,  when  he  thought  it  his  duty  to 
do  so,  to  his  own  party.  Upon  the  two  great  points  of  the 
war,  and  of  that  Whiggism  which  urged  the  due  cultiva- 
tion of  the  people,  he  has  recorded  his  conviction  of  the 
hopelessness  of  the  one  and  the  necessity  of  the  other,  in 
one  or  two  of  his  letters. 

"  I  must  say  that  a  temperate,  firm,  and  enlightened 
article  on  Spain,  would,  of  all  other  things,  be  the  most 
serviceable  and  restorative  to  us  at  this  crisis.  I  cannot 
indeed  comprehend  your  grounds  of  hope.  But  the  public 
will ;  and  I  am  willing  enough  to  be  enlightened.  At  all 
events,  something  gravely  and  soberly  said  upon  this  topic 
would  be  quite  medicinal  in  this  stage  of  the  malady.  I  am 


lf>4  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

really  anxious  to  see  some  grounds  of  comfort  for  my  own 
sake.  For  my  honest  impression  is,  that  Bonaparte  will 
be  in  Dublin  in  about  fifteen  months  ;  perhaps  sooner.  And 
then  if  I  survive,  I  shall  try  to  go  to  America.  I  hate  des- 
potism and  insolence  so  much,  that  I  could  bear  a  great 
deal,  rather  than  live  here  under  Frenchmen,  and  such 
•wretches  as  will  at  first  be  employed  by  them." — (To 
Homer,  29th  December,  1808.) 

"  I  still  hanker  after  peace,  chiefly  I  own  out  of  fear, 
and  out  of  despair ;  not  very  noble  motives  either  of  them, 
but  pretty  powerful,  and  well  calculated  to  have  weight 
with  the  prudent.  I  do  in  my  heart  think  that  we  are  in 
very  considerable  danger  of  losing  Ireland  within  eighteen 
months;  and  then  how  is  England  to  be  kept  ?  Or  would  it 
be  worth  keeping  by  the  present  generation,  at  the  expense 
of  all  the  bloodshed,  and  treachery,  and  guilt,  and  misery, 
which  the  struggle  would  produce  ?  Then,  as  to  foreigH 
aifairs,  I  own  I  make  up  my  mind  to  see  every  thing  sub- 
dued by  France  on  the  Continent ;  and  therefore  I  do  not 
agree  with  you  that  any  new  usurpation  or  plans  of  con- 
quest there  should  be  allowed  to  break  a  peace  once  con- 
cluded with  England.  Indeed,  our  interference  is  likely 
enough  to  exasperate,  and  accelerate,  and  afford  a  sort  of 
apology  in  future,  as  it  has  done  in  past  times.  The  be- 
neficial chances  of  peace  are  obvious ;  and  I  would  rather 
take  them,  with  all  the  hazards,  than  persist  in  our  present 
downward  course." — (To  Homer,  25th  January,  1811.)  • 

Then,  as  to  home  politics,  his  opinions  were  in  substance 
just  those  of  the  Whig  party  ;  but  with  this  material  qua- 
lification, that  he  was  one  of  those  who  always  thought 
that  even  the  Whigs  were  disposed  to  govern  too  much 
through  the  influence  of  the  aristocracy,  and  through  a 
few  great  aristocratical  families  without  making  the  people 
a  direct  political  element.  He  stated  this  view  in  the 
following  letter  to  Mr.  Horner,  26th  October,  1809.  "  In 
the  main,  I  think  our  opinions  do  not  differ  very  widely ; 


POLITICAL    OPINIONS.  155 

and,  in  substance  and  reality,  you  seem  to  me  to  admit  all 
that  I  used  to  contend  with  you  about.  In  the  first  place, 
you  admit  now  that  there  is  a  spirit  of  discontent,  or  dis- 
affection, if  you  choose  to  call  it  so,  among  the  people,  which 
must  be  managed  and  allayed,  in  some  way  or  other,  if  we 
wish  to  preserve  tranquillity.  And,  in  the  next  place,  you 
admit  that  the  leading  Whigs  belong  to  the  aristocracy, 
and  have  been  obliged  to  govern  themselves  a  great  deal 
by  the  necessity  of  managing  this  aristocracy.  Now,  all  I 
say  is,  that  there  is  a  radical  contest  and  growing  struggle 
between  the  aristocracy  and  the  democracy  of  this  country ; 
and  agreeing  entirely  with  you,  that  its  freedom  must  de- 
pend in  a  good  measure  on  their  coalition,  I  still  think  that 
the  aristocracy  is  the  weakest,  and  ought  to  give  way,  and 
that  the  blame  of  the  catastrophe  will  be  heaviest  on  those 
who  provoke  a  rupture  by  maintaining  its  pretensions. 
When  I  said  I  had  no  confidence  in  Lord  Grey  or  Gren- 
ville,  I  meant  no  more  than  that  I  thought  them  too  aris- 
tocratical,  and  consequently,  likely  to  be  inefficient.  They 
will  never  be  trusted  by  the  Court,  nor  cordial  with  the 
Tories ;  and,  I  fear,  unless  they  think  less  of  the  aristo- 
cracy and  its  interests  and  prerogatives,  they  will  every  day 
have  less  influence  with  the  people. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  their  individual  honour  and  inte- 
grity, and  am  disposed  to  think  highly  of  their  talents. 
You  ask  too  much  of  the  people  when  you  ask  them  to  have 
great  indulgence  for  the  ornaments  and  weaknesses  of  re- 
fined life.  You  should  consider  what  a  burdensome  thing 
Government  has  grown ;  and  into  what  dangers  and  diffi- 
culties they  have  been  led  by  trusting  implicitly  to  those 
refined  rulers.  As  long  as  they  are  suffering  and  angry, 
they  will  have  no  indulgence  for  these  things ;  and  every 
attempt  to  justify  or  uphold  them  will  be  felt  as  an  insult. 
I  still  think  our  greatest  immediate  hazard  is  from  without. 
But  I  differ  from  you  still  more  in  your  opinion  that  we  are 
more  in  danger  of  falling  under  a  military  tyranny  through 


156  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  common  course  of  internal  tumult  and  disorder,  than 
of  having  our  present  Government  consolidated  into  some- 
thing a  good  deal  like  despotism  without  any  stir.  The 
very  same  want  of  virtue  which  makes  all  popular  commo- 
tion likely  to  end  in  military  tyranny,  gives  reason  to  fear 
for  the  result  of  a  passive  obedience  on  one  hand,  and  bad, 
unprincipled  measures,  on  the  other.  Unless  something  be 
done,  or  happen,  to  conciliate,  one  or  other  of  the  parties 
will  come  to  act  in  a  decided  manner  by  and  by.  I  own  to 
you,  that  with  the  government  in  the  hands  of  Wellesleys 
and  Melvilles,  and  with  the  feeling  that  something  vigorous 
must  be  hazarded,  I  should  rather  expect  to  see  the  Habeas 
Corpus  Act  suspended — Cobbett  and  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view prosecuted — newspapers  silenced — and  all  the  common 
harbingers  of  tyranny  sent  out,  than  to  witness  any  alarm- 
ing symptoms  of  popular  usurpation  and  violence.  The 
same  cause,  however,  promises  to  avert  both  disasters.  The 
people  are  both  stronger,  and  wiser,  and  more  discontented 
than  those  who  are  not  the  people  will  believe.  Let  the 
true  friends  of  liberty  and  the  constitution  join  with  the 
people,  assist  them  to  ask,  with  dignity  and  with  order,  all 
that  ought  to  be  granted,  and  endeavour  to  withhold  them 
from  asking  more.  But  for  both  purposes  let  them  be 
gracious  and  cordial  with  them,  and  not  by  distrust,  and 
bullying,  and  terror,  exasperate  them,  and  encourage  the 
Court  party  to  hazard  a  contest  that  will  be  equally  fatal, 
however  it  issue.*  I  thank  you  very  gratefully  for  all  you 
promise  to  do  for  the  Review.  I  hope  you  will  go  a  little 
beyond  the  mere  examination  of  the  translation,  and  say 
something  still  of  Fox,  or  of  the  French,  or  of  other  coun- 
tries that  could  never  produce  such  a  character." 

In  judging  of  this  and  all  his  writings,  we  must  remember 

*  See  a  letter  with  the  same  views  to  Mr.  Homer,  in  Homer's  Memoirs, 
ii.  10,  and  No.  30,  art.  15,  of  the  Review  where  the  same  view  is  taken, 
and  is  expressed  in  the  same  spirit. 


POLITICAL   OPINIONS.  157 

the  rule  under  which  he  cautioned  Homer  that  they  must 
be  read.  (13th  August,  1809.) — «  I  have  done  a  very  long 
rambling  thing  on  parliamentary  reform  ;  in  which  I  think 
there  are  some  inaccuracies,  and  some  positions  you  will 
think  false ;  but  I  beg  you  to  judge  it,  as  I  fear  you  must 
judge  all  that  I  say  or  write,  by  the  whole  broad  effect  and 
honest  meaning,  without  keeping  me  to  points  or  phrases, 
or  making  me  answer  for  exaggerations.  I  wrote  it  while 
they  were  printing,  and  have  no  anxiety  except  for  your 
judgment,  and  that  of  about  three  other  persons." 

These  opinions  may  have  been  all  unsound,  and  conse- 
quently dangerous ;  but  there  was  surely  nothing  in  them 
that  could  make  any  person  of  candour  impute  what  he 
may  think  the  mischievous  doctrines  of  the  Review  to 
wickedness,  on  the  part  of  either  its  conductor  or  its  con- 
tributors. 

The  number  which  had  appeared  in  January,  1808,  con- 
tained the  criticism  on  Lord  Byron's  Hours  of  Idleness 
(No.  22,  art.  2),  which  his  Lordship  declares  had  inflamed 
him  into  "rage,  resistance,  and  redress."  Accordingly,  in 
March,  1809,  he  exploded  in  his  English  Bards  and  Scotch 
Reviewers ;  which  wastes  its  fiercest  and  most  contemp- 
tuous bitterness  on  Jeffrey,  whom  he  believed  to  have  been 
the  author  of  the  offensive  article.  But  he  was  wrong  in 
this  opinion,  for  it  was  written  by  a  different  person.  It 
would  be  idle  to  answer  any  thing  contained  in  a  satire 
which  its  author  himself  came  to  describe  as  a  "ferocious 
rhapsody,"  and  "a  miserable  record  of  misplaced  anger  and 
indiscriminate  acrimony."  He  afterward  did  justice  to 
Jeffrey  both  as  a  man  and  a  critic,  and  even  told  the  world 
of  him, — "you  have  acted  on  the  whole  most  nobly." — 
(Don  Juan,  10,  16.) 

In  May,  1810,  he  removed  from  Queen  Street,  and  went, 
after  about  ten  years'  residence  in  upper  floors,  to  a  small 
house  occupied  entirely  by  himself,  in  No.  92  George 
Street,  where  he  passed  the  next  seventeen  years. 

14 


158  LIFE   OF    LOUD   JEFFREY. 

During  the  summer  of  1810,  he  was  very  unwell ;  for 
which  he  roamed  for  nearly  two  months  over  England  and 
Wales. 

In  the  spring  of  1811  he  was  in  London,  and  saw  more 
of  its  society  than  he  had  yet  done.  In  the  autumn  he 
took  another  journey  to  the  north  of  Scotland. 

His  professional  employment  was  now  widening  so  steadi- 
ly, as  to  make  it  evident  that,  if  he  persevered,  the  pinna- 
cles of  the  law  were  not  beyond  his  reach.  I  wish  it  was 
possible  for  me  to  do  justice  to  the  more  eminent  competi- 
tors with  whom  he  had  the  satisfaction  and  the  honour  to 
be  engaged.  But  they  are  too  numerous,  and,  except  as 
lawyers,  many  of  them  are  too  unknown  to  be  generally 
interesting.  There  are  three,  however,  of  his  principal 
rivals  who  cannot  be  passed  by. 

John  Clerk,  son  of  Clerk  of  Eldin,  (a  man  whose  science 
and  originality,  whether  he  first  propounded  the  modern 
system  of  naval  tactics  or  not,  were  far  above  that  idea,) 
had  been  Solicitor-General  under  the  Whig  Government  of 
1805  and  1806,  and  had  since  risen  into  great  practice.  It 
is  difficult  to  describe  a  person  whose  conditions  in  repose 
and  in  action,  that  is,  in  his  private  and  in  his  professional 
life,  almost  amounted  to  the  possession  of  two  natures. 

A  contracted  limb,  which  made  him  pitch  when  he 
walked,  and  only  admitted  of  his  standing  erect  by  hanging 
it  in  the  air,  added  to  the  peculiarity  of  a  figure  with  which 
so  many  other  ideas  of  oddity  were  connected.  Blue  eyes, 
very  bushy  eyebrows,  coarse  grizzly  hair,  always  in  disor- 
der, and  firm,  projecting  features,  made  his  face  and  head 
not  unlike  that  of  a  thorough-bred  shaggy  terrier.  It  was 
a  countenance  of  great  thought  and  great  decision. 

Had  his  judgment  been  equal  to  his  talent,  few  powerful 
men  could  have  stood  before  him.  For  he  had  a  strong, 
working,  independent,  ready  head;  which  had  been  im- 
proved by  various  learning,  extending  beyond  his  profession 
into  the  fields  of  general  literature,  and  into  the  arts  of 


JOHN    CLERK.  159 

painting  and  sculpture.  Honest,  warm-hearted,  generous, 
and  simple,  he  was  a  steady  friend,  and  of  the  most  touch- 
ing Affection  in  all  the  domestic  relations.  The  whole 
family. was  deeply  marked  by  an  hereditary  caustic  humour, 
and  none  of  its  members  more  than  he. 

These  excellences,  however,  were  affected  by  certain  pe- 
culiarities, or  habits,  which  segregated  him  from  the  whole 
human  race. 

One  of  these  was  an  innocent  admiration  both  of  his  own 
real  merits  and  achievements,  and  of  all  the  supposed  ones 
which  his  simplicity  ascribed  to  himself.  He  was  saved 
from  the  imputation  of  vanity  in  this,  by  the  sincerity  of 
the  delusion.  Without  any  boasting  or  airs  of  superiority, 
he  'would  expatiate  on  his  own  virtues  with  a  quiet  placidi- 
ty, as  if  he  had  no  concern  in  the  matter,  but  only  wished 
others  to  know  what  they  should  admire.  This  infantine 
self  deification  would  have  been  more  amusing,  had  it  not 
encouraged  another  propensity,  the  source  of  some  of  his 
more  serious  defects — an  addiction,  not  in  words  merely, 
but  in  conduct,  to  paradox.  He  did  not  announce  his  dog- 
mas, like  the  ordinary  professors  of  paradox,  for  surprise 
or  argument,  but  used  to  insist  upon  them  with  a  calm, 
slow,  dogged  obstinacy,  which  at  least  justified  the  honesty 
of  his  acting  upon  them.  And  this  tendency  was  aggra- 
vated, in  its  turn,  by  a  third-  rather  painful  weakness; 
which,  of  all  the  parts  in  his  character,  was  the  one  which 
his  friends  would  have  liked  most  to  change, — jealousy  of 
rivalship,  and  a  kindred  impatience  of  contradiction.  This 
introduced  the  next  stage,  when  confidence  in  his  own  in- 
fallibility ascribed  all  opposition  to  doubts  of  his  possessing 
this  quality,  and  thus  inflamed  a  spirit  which,  however 
serene  when  torpid,  was  never  trained  to  submission,  and 
could  rise  into  fierceness  when  chafed. 

Of  course  it  was  chafed  every  moment  at  the  bar ;  and 
accordingly  it  was  there  that  his  other  and  inferior  nature 
appeared.  Every  consideration  was  lost  in  eagerness  for 


160  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  client,  whose  merit  lay  in  this,  that  he  has  relied  upon 
me,  John  Clerk.  Nor  was  his  the  common  zeal  of  a'  coun- 
sel. It  was  a  passion.  He  did  not  take  his  fee,  plead  the 
cause  well,  hear  the  result,  and  have  done  with  it ;  but  gave 
the  client  his  temper,  his  perspiration,  his  nights,  his  rea- 
son, his  whole  body  and  soul,  and  very  often  the  fee  to 
boot.  His  real  superiority  lay  in  his  legal  learning  and 
his  hard  reasoning.  But  he  would  have  been  despicable 
in  his  own  sight  had  he  reasoned  without  defying  and  in- 
sulting the  adversary  and  the  unfavourable  judges ;  the 
last  of  whom  he  always  felt  under  a  special  call  to  abuse, 
because  they  were  not  merely  obstructing  justice,  but 
thwarting  him.  So  that  pugnacity  was  his  line.  His 
whole  session  was  one  keen  and  truceless  conflict ;  in  which 
more  irritating  matter  was  introduced  than  could  have  been 
ventured  upon  by  any  one  except  himself,  whose  worth  was 
known,  and  whose  intensity  was  laughed  at  as  one  of  the 
shows  of  the  court. 

Neither  in -speaking,  nor  in  any  thing  else,  was  he  at  all 
entangled  with  the  graces ;  but  his  manner  was  always 
sensible  and  natural.  An  utterance  as  slow  as  minute 
guns,  and  a  poor  diction,  marked  his  unexcited  state,  in 
one  of  his  torpid  moods.  But  when  roused,  which  was  his 
more  common  condition,  he  had  the  command  of  a  strong, 
abrupt,  colloquial  style,  which,  either  for  argument  or  for 
scorn,  suited  him  much  better  than  any  other  sort  of  elo- 
quence would  have  done.  Very  unequal,  no  distinguished 
counsel  made  so  many  bad  appearances.  But  then  he  made 
many  admirable  ones,  arid  always  redeemed  himself  out  of 
the  bad  ones  by  displays  of  great  depth  and  ability.  And 
his  sudden  rallies  when,  after  being  refuted  and  run  down, 
he  stood  at  bay,  and  either  covered  his  escape  or  died  scalp- 
ing, were  unmatched  in  dexterity  and  force.  A  number 
of  admirable  written  arguments  on  profound  legal  difficul- 
ties, will  sustain  his  reputation  in  the  sight  of  every  lawyer 
A'ho  will  take  the  very  useful  trouble  of  instructing  himself 


JOHN    CLERK.  1C1 

by  the  study  of  these  works.  It  was  his  zeal,  however, 
which  of  all  low  qualities  is  unfortunately  the  one  that  is 
most  prized  in  the  daily  market  of  the  bar,  that  chiefly  up- 
held him  when  in  his  glory ;  and  as  this  fiery  quality  must 
cool  with  age,  he  declined  some  years  before  he  withdrew. 

His  popularity  was  increased  by  his  oddities.  Even  in 
the  midst  of  his  phrensies  he  was  always  introducing  some 
original  and  quaint  humour ;  so  that  there  are  few  of  the 
lights  of  the  court  of  whom  more  sayings  and  stories  are 
prevalent.  Even  in  his  highest  fits  of  disdainful  vehe- 
mence, he  would  pause, — lift  his  spectacles  to  his  brow, 
— erect  himself, — and  after  indicating  its  approach  by  a 
mantling  smile,  would  relieve  himself,  and  cheer  the  au- 
dience by  some  diverting  piece  of  Clerkism, — and  then, 
before  the  laugh  was  well  over,  another  gust  would  be  up. 
He  and  his  consulting  room  withdrew  the  attention  of 
strangers  from  the  cases  on  which  they  had  come  to  hear 
their  fate.  Walls  covered  with  books  and  pictures,  of  both 
of  which  he  had  a  large  collection ;  the  floor  encumbered 
by  little  ill-placed  tables,  each  with  a  piece  of  old  china  on 
it ;  strange  boxes,  bits  of  sculpture,  curious  screens  and 
chairs,  cats  and  dogs,  (his  special  favourites,)  and  all  man- 
ner of  trash,  dead  and  living,  and  all  in  confusion ; — John 
himself  sitting  in  the  midst  of  this  museum, — in  a  red 
worsted  night-cap,  his  crippled  limb  resting  horizontally  on 
a  tripod  stool, — and  many  pairs  of  spectacles  and  antique 
snuff-boxes  on  a  small  table  at  his  right  hand ;  and  there 
he  sits, — perhaps  dreaming  awake, — probably  descanting 
on  some  of  his  crotchets,  and  certainly  abusing  his  friends 
the  judges, — when  recalled  to  the  business  in  hand ;  but 
generally  giving  acute  and  vigorous  advice. 

Except  in  his  profession,  and  as  an  ardent  partisan,  he 
was  little  of  a  public  character.  Resolute  in  his  Whig 
principles,  which  he  delighted  to  shake  in  the  face  of  his 
adversaries  during  the  fulness  of  their  power,  and  entering 
hotly  into  all  the  movements  of  his  party,  inexperience  of 
L  14* 


162  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

public  management,  and  some  impracticability,  disqualified 
him  from  originating  measures,  and  occasionally  made  him 
a  little  dangerous  even  as  their  defender.  In  these  mat- 
ters, indeed,  his  friends  could  not  have  the  confidence  in 
his  judgment,  which  friends  would  have  liked  to  have  had 
in  one  so  upright,  and  with  so  muscular  a  mind. 

Jeffrey  and  he  did  excellently  together ;  for  even  in  op- 
position, Jeffrey  managed  him  better  than  most  other  peo- 
ple could.  He  respected  his  worth  and  talent ;  and  when- 
ever Clerk  exceeded  his  allowed  (and  pretty  large)  measure 
of  provocation,  no  one  could  so  easily  torment  him  in  return, 
chiefly  by  the  levity  with  which  Clerk's  coarser  blows  were 
received. 

James  Moncrieff,  a  son  of  Sir  Harry,  and  worthy  of  the 
name,  was  more  remarkable  for  the  force  than  for  the 
variety  of  his  powers.  His  faculties,  naturally,  could  have 
raised  and  sustained  him  in  almost  any  practical  sphere. 
But,  from  his  very  outset,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  law 
as  the  great  object  of  his  ambition.  The  politics  of  the 
Scotch  Whig  party,  and  the  affairs  of  that  Presbyterian 
Church  which  he  revered,  occupied  much  of  his  attention 
throughout  life ;  but  even  these  were  subordinate  to  the 
main  end  of  rising,  by  hard  work,  in  his  profession. 

This  restriction  of  his  object  had  its  necessary  conse- 
quences. Though  excellently  educated  at  Edinburgh,  Glas- 
gow, and  Oxford,  he  left  himself  little  leisure  for  literary 
culture ;  and,  while  grounded  in  the  knowledge  necessary 
for  the  profession  of  a  liberal  lawyer,  he  was  not  a  well- 
read  man.  Without  any  of  his  father's  dignified  air,  his 
outward  appearance  was  rather  insignificant ;  but  his  coun- 
tenance was  marked  by  a  pair  of  firm,  compressed  lips,  de- 
noting great  vigour  and  resolution.  The  peculiarity  of  his 
voice  always  attracted  attention.  In  its  ordinary  state  it 
was  shrill  and  harsh  ;  and  casual  listeners,  who  only  heard 
it  in  that  state,  went  away  with  the  idea  that  it  was  never 
any  thing  else.  They  never  heard  him  admonish  a  pri- 


1  JAMES   MOXCRIEFF.  163 

soner,  of  whom  there  was  still  hope ;  or  doom  one  to  die  ; 
or  spurn  a  base  sentiment ;  or  protest  before  a  great  audi- 
ence on  behalf  of  a  sacred  principle.  The  organ  changed 
into  striking  impressiveness,  whenever  it  had  to  convey  the 
deep  tones  of  that  solemn  earnestness  which  was  his  elo- 
quence. Always  simple,  direct,  and  practical,  he  had  little 
need  of  imagination  ;  and  one  so  engrossed  by  severe  occu- 
pation and  grave  thought,  could  not  be  expected  to  give 
much  to  general  society  by  lively  conversation.  With 
his  private  friends  he  was  always  cheerful  and  innocently 
happy. 

In  the  midst  of  these  negative  qualities,  there  were 
three  positive  ones  which  made  him  an  admirable  and  very 
formidable  person — great  power  of  reasoning ;  unconquer- 
able energy ;  and  the  habitual  and  conscientious  practice 
of  all  the  respectable  and  all  the  amiable  virtues. 

Though  a  good  thinker,  not  quick,  but  sound,  he  was  a 
still  better  arguer.  His  reasoning  powers,  especially  as 
they  were  chiefly  seen  concentrated  on  law,  were  of  the 
very  highest  order.  These,  and  his  great  legal  knowledge, 
made  him  the  best  working  counsel  in  court.  The  inten- 
sity of  his  energy  arose  from  that  of  his  conscientiousness. 
Every  thing  was  a  matter  of  duty  with  him,  and  therefore 
he  gave  his  whole  soul  to  it.  Jeffrey  called  him  the  whole 
duty  of  man.  Simple,  indifferent,  and  passive  when  un- 
yoked, give  him  any  thing  professional  or  public  to  per- 
form, and  he  fell  upon  it  with  a  fervour  which  made  his 
adversaries  tremble,  and  his  friends  doubt  if  it  was  the 
same  man.  One  of  his  cures  for  a  headache  was  to  sit 
down  and  clear  up  a  deep  legal  question.  With  none,  ori- 
ginally, of  the  facilities  of  speaking  which  seem  a  part  of 
some  men's  nature,  zeal,  practice,  and  the  constant  pos- 
session of  good  matter,  gave  him  all  the  oratory  that  he 
required.  He  could  in  words  unravel  any  argument  how- 
ever abstruse,  or  disentangle  any  facts  however  compli- 
cated, or  impress  any  audience  with  the  simple  and  serious 


104  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

emotions  with  which  he  dealt.  And,  for  his  purpose,  his 
style,  both  written  and  spoken,  was  excellent — plain,  clear, 
condensed,  and  nervous. 

Thus,  the  defect  lay  in  the  narrowness  of  the  range ; 
the  merit  in  his  force  within  it.  Had  it  not  heen  for  his 
known  honesty,  his  inflexible  constancy  of  principle,  and 
the  impossibility  of  his  doing  any  thing  without  stamping 
the  act  with  the  impression  of  his  own  character,  he  would 
have  been  loo  professional  for  public  life.  But  zeal  and 
purity  are.  the  best  grounds  of  public  influence;  and  ac- 
cordingly, in  Edinburgh,  or  wherever  he  was  known,  the 
mere  presence  of  James  Moncrieff  satisfied  people  that  all 
was  right. 

I  am  not  aware  how  his  moral  nature  could  have  been 
improved.  A  truer  friend,  a  more  upright  judge,  or  a 
more  affectionate  man,  could  not  be. 

His  love  of  the  church  was  not  solely  hereditary.  He 
himself  had  a  strong  Presbyterian  taste,  and  accordingly 
both  the  Whiggism  and  the  grave  piety  of  what  was  called 
the  wild  side  of  the  church  were  entirely  according  to.  his 
heart.  He  was  almost  the  only  layman  on  that  side  who 
used  regularly  to  attend  to  the  proceedings  of  the  old 
General  Assembly,  and  to  influence  them.  It  was  a  sad 
day  for  him  when  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  renounce  that 
community,  as  he  was  certain  that  his  father  would  have 
done ;  and  to  adhere  to  what  he  thought  its  ancient  and 
genuine  principles  in  the  Free  Church.  He  mourned  over 
the  necessity  with  the  sorrow  of  a  mother  weeping  for  a 
dead  child. 

His  attachment  to  his  political  principles  was  equally 
steady  and  pure.  He  owned  them  in  his  youth,  and  they 
clung  to  him  through  life.  The  public  meeting  in  1795, 
for  attending  which,  Henry  Erskine  was  turned  out  of  the 
deanship,  was  held  in  the  Circus,  which  their  inexperience 
at  that'  time  of  such  assemblages  had  made  them  neglect 
to  take  any  means  to  light,  and  Erskine  was  obliged  to 


JAMES   MONCRIEFF.  1G5 

begin  his  speech  in  the  dark.  A  lad,  however,  struggled 
through  the  crowd  with  a  dirty  tallow  candle  in  his  hand, 
which  he  held  up,  during  the  rest  of  the  address,  before  the 
orator's  face.  Many  shouts  honoured  the  unknown  torch- 
bearer.  This  lad  was  James  Moncrieff,  then  about  sixteen. 
The  next  time  that  he  recollected  being  in  that  place, 
which  had  changed  its  name,  was  when  he  presided  at  what 
is  known  here  as  the  Pantheon  Meeting  in  1819.  He  died 
in  the  political  faith  in  which  he  had  lived  ;  never  selfish, 
or  vindictive,  or  personal ;  never  keeping  back,  but  never 
pushing  forward ;  and  always  honouring  his  party  and 
his  cause  by  the  honesty  and  resolute  moderation  of  all  his 
sentiments. 

Jeffrey  had  the  greatest  regard  for  this  most  excellent 
man.  On  the  22d  of  November,  1826,  Moncrieff  was 
raised  by  his  brethren  of  the  bar  to  be  their  Dean.  Some 
thought  that  Jeffrey  who,  besides  other  things,  was  his 
senior,  had  a  better  claim.  But  he  put  this  down  per- 
emptorily, insisting  that  Moncrieff  held,  and  deserved  to 
hold,  a  higher  professional  position ;  and  declaring  that, 
at  any  rate,  he  would  have  more  gratification  in  his  friend's 
elevation  than  in  his  own.  He  accordingly  seconded  Mon- 
crieff's  nomination.  Many  a  tough  bar  battle  had  they. 
But  this  only  tightened  the  bands  of  their  social  lives. 
In  their  judicial  conflicts,  Moncrieff  had  the  advantage  in 
liard  law,  Jeffrey  in  general  reasoning  and  in  legal  fancy. 

He  died  on  the  30th  of  March,  1851. 

George  Cranstoun,  with  rather  a  featureless  counte- 
nance, had  a  pleasing  and  classical  profile.  With  a  deadly 
paleness,  a  general  delicacy  of  form,  and  gentlemanlike 
though  not  easy  manners,  the  general  air  indicated  ele- 
gance, thought,  arid  restraint.  His  knowledge  of  law  was 
profound,  accurate,  and  extensive  ;  superior  perhaps,  espe- 
cially if  due  value  be  set  on  its  variety,  to  that  of  every 
other  person  in  his  day.  It  embraced  every  branch  of 
the  science,  feudal,  mercantile,  and  Roman  ;  constitutional 


166  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

and  criminal ;  the  system  not  of  his  own  country  alone, 
but,  in  its  more  general  principles,  the  jurisprudence  of 
Europe.  No  great,  though  new,  question  could  occur,  on 
which  he  was  not,  or  could  not  soon  make  himself  at  home. 
His  legal  loins  were  always  girt  up ;  and  his  law  was  dig- 
nified by  a  respectable  acquaintance  with  classical  and 
continental  literature,  and  a  very  considerable  knowledge 
of  the  literature  of  Britain.  Except  two  or  three  casual 
(and  rather  elaborate)  levities,  he  wrote  nothing  but  the 
legal  arguments  in  which  the  court  was  then  so  much  ad- 
dressed. His  style  in  this  line  was  so  clear  and  elegant, 
that  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  would  have  sustained 
higher  matter.  His  speaking  was  anxiously  precise ;  while 
ingenious  law,  beautiful  reasoning,  and  measured  diction 
gave  every  professional  speech, -however  insignificant  the 
subject,  the  appearance  of  a  finished  thing.  It  was  not 
his  way  to  escape  from  details  by  general  views.  He  built 
up  his  own  argument,  and  demolished  that  of  his  adver- 
sary, stone  by  stone.  There  are  few  in  whose  hands  this 
system  could  have  avoided  being  tedious.  But  he  managed 
it  with  such  brevity  in  each  part,  and  such  general  neat- 
ness and  dexterity,  that  of  all  faults  tediousness  was  the 
one  of  which  he  was  freest.  He  could  not  be  forcible,  and 
was  too  artificial  to  be  moving,  and  therefore  avoided  the 
scenes  where  these  qualities  are  convenient.  His  appro- 
priate line  was  that  of  pure  law,  set  off  by  elegance,  rea- 
soning, and  learning.  His  taste  was  delicate,  but  not 
always  sound,  particularly  on  matters  of  humour,  which 
his  elaboration  seldom  gave  fair  play.  He  no  doubt  felt 
the  humour  of  others,  and  had  humorous  conceptions  of 
his  own.  But  when  he  tried  to  give  one  of  them  to  the 
public,  the  preamble  and  the  point  were  so  anxiously 
conned  and  polished,  that  -the  principal  pleasure  of  the 
audience,  when  they  saw  the  joke  on  the  stocks,  consisted 
in  their  watching  the  ingenious  care  with  which  it  was  to 
he  launched. 


GEORGE    CRANSTOUN.  167 

The  defect  of  the  whole  composition  was  a  want  of  na- 
ture. To  a  very  few  of  the  kernels  of  his  friendships  he 
was  reported  to  be  not  incapable  of  relapsing  into  ease. 
But  those  less  favoured,  and  his  general  acquaintance,  were 
oppressed  by  his  systematic  ceremony.  He  shrank  so  into 
himself,  that  those  who  did  not  understand  the  thing  were 
apt  to  suppose  him  timid  and  indifferent  to  common  dis- 
tractions. But  he  was  exactly  the  reverse.  His  opinions 
and  feelings,  both  of  persons  and  of  matters,  were  decided 
and  confident  ;  in  forming  them  he  was  entirely  free  from 
the  errors  that  spring  from  undue  admiration  or  enthu- 
siasm ;  and  behind  a  select  screen  they  were  sometimes 
freely  disclosed.  But  the  very  next  moment,  if  before  the 
world,  the  habitual  mask,  which  showed  nothing  but  diffi- 
dence and  fastidious  retirement,  was  never  off.  He  would 
have  been  far  more  powerful  and  popular,  could  he  have 
been  but  artless.  His  exposition  of  law  was  matchless ; 
and  he  sometimes  touched  the  right  moral  chord,  but  not 
always  on  the  right  key.  The  disposition  to  get  into  the 
region  of  exquisite  art ;  to  embellish  by  an  apt  quotation  ; 
to  explain  by  an  anecdote;  to  drop  his  distinctly  uttered 
and  polished  words,  one  by  one,  like  pearls  into  the  ear, 
— adhered  to  him  too  inseparably. 

Though  a  decided  Whig,  for  which  he  suffered  profes- 
sional proscription  for  several  years,  it  was  chiefly  by  his 
character  that  he  did  good  to  his  party.  Retired  habits 
and  the  unfortunate  ambition  of  perfection  excluded  his 
practical  usefulness.  With  no  indecision  of  principle,  and 
no  public  indifference,  though  with  considerable  distaste  of 
popular  vulgarity,  it  was  beneath  George  Cranstoun  ever 
to  come  forward  but  on  a  great  occasion,  and  with  a  dis- 
play of  precise,  unchallengeable  excellence.  This  was  not 
the  man  for  plain  public  work,  and  accordingly  he  very 
rarely  undertook  it. 

His  and  Jeffrey's  professional  struggles  were  often  very 
amusing.  He  undervalued  what  he  thought  Jeffrey's  igno 


168  LIFE   OF   LOJRD   JEFFREY. 

ranee  of  correct  law ;  Jeffrey  made  game  of  the  techni- 
cal accuracy  of  his  learned  brother.  A  black  letter  judge 
agreed  with  the  one;  the  world  admired  the  other.  Each 
occasionally  tried  the  other's  field.  But  in  these  en> 
croachments  the  advantage  was  generally  on  the  side  of 
Jeffrey ;  who,  with  due  preparation,  could  more  certainly 
equal  the  law  of  Cranstoun,  than  Cranstoun  could  the  inge- 
nuity or  the  brilliant  illustration  of  Jeffrey.  The  one  was 
in  books  ;  the  other  in  the  man. 

About  the  close  of  1810,  Mons.  Simond,  a  French 
gentleman,  who  had  left  his  country  early  in  the  revolu- 
tion, came  with  his  wife  and  a  niece  to  visit  some  friends 
in  Edinburgh,  where  they  remained  some  weeks.  Mad.  Si- 
mond was  a  sister  of  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq.,  banker  in  New 
York,  a  nephew  of  the  famous  John ;  and  the  niece  was 
Miss  Charlotte  Wilkes,  a  daughter  of  this  Gharles.  It  was 
during  this  visit,  I  believe,  that  she  and  Jeffrey  first  met. 

In  1812  he  became  the  tenant  of  Hatton,  about  nine 
miles  west  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  passed  the  summer  of 
that  and  of  the  two  succeeding  years.  The  Moreheads  and 
their  family  lived  with  him  there  in  1812  and  1813.  It 
had  formerly  been  a  seat  of  the  Lauderdales,  by  whom  the 
mansion  had  been  built,  and  the  grounds  laid  out,  prior  to 
the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.  In  its  original  con- 
dition,— with  its  shaded  avenues,  its  terraces,  fountains, 
garden  sculpture,  shrubs,  and  its  lawns, — it  must  have  been 
a  stately  and  luxurious  place.  But  by  1812,  time  and  neg- 
lect had  made  great  changes.  The  house  was  still  habi- 
table for  a  family  disposed  to  be  contented  ;  and  the  gardens 
retained  the  charms  which  can  scarcely  be  taken  from  the 
grounds  brightened  by  healthy  evergreens.  The  balus- 
trades, however,  were  broken  ;  the  urns  half  buried ;  the 
fountains  had  ceased  to  play;  and  there  was  such  general 
•decay  and  disorder,  that  one  of  the  interests  consisted  in 
fancying  how  well  it  must  have  looked  when  it  was  all 
entire. 


VOYAGE    TO   AMERICA.  169 

This  was  the  first  country  residence  that  Jeffrey  ever 
had  of  his  own.  He  enjoyed  it  exceedingly.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  that  half  town  and  half  villa  life  which  he  ever 
afterward  led.  He  kept  no  carriage  then  of  any  kind ;  but 
rode  out  as  often  as  he  could ;  which,  during  the  vacations 
of  the  court,  was  every  day ;  and,  besides  ordinary  visitors. 
no  Saturday  could  pass  without  a  special  party  of  his 
friends.  But  his  best  happiness  at  Hatton  arose  from  its 
quiet,  and  the  opportunities  it  gave  him  of  making  the 
Moreheads  happy,  and  of  prattling  with  the  children. 

One  of  his  fancies  for  several  years,  both  before  and 
after  this,  was  to  run  for  a  few  days  to  some  wild  solitude, 
in  the  very  depth  of  winter.  "I  am  (to  Homer,  5th 
January,  1813)  just  returned  from  the  top  of  Ben-Lomond, 
where  I  had  two  shots  at  an  eagle  on  New  Year's  Day.  Is 
not  that  magnificent  ?  and  far  better  than  special  pleading, 
or  even  electioneering,  which  I  hope  was  your  employment 
about  the  same  time.  The  weather  was  beautiful,  only  not 
quite  wintry  enough  for  my  project  of.  getting  a  peep  of  a 
true  Alpine  scene,  or  rather,  to  confess  the  truth,  a  living 
image  of  St.  Preux's  frozen  haunts  at  Meillerie.  I  have  not 
done  with  Rousseau  yet,  you  see,  and  find  infinite  consola- 
tion in  him  in  all  seasons.  I  cannot  say  that  I  feel  my  taste 
for  business  and  affairs  increase  at  all  as  I  grow  older ; 
and,  therefore,  I  suppose  it  is  that  I  retain  almost  all  my 
youthful  interest  in  other  occupations." 

His  acquaintance  with  Miss  Wilkes  had  ripened  into  a 
permanent  attachment,  which  it  was  at  one  time  thought 
would  have  ended  in  a  marriage  in  England.  Her  father 
was  an  Englishman,  but  had  been  several  years  resident 
in  America ;  and  when  his  daughter  was  here,  there  was 
a  scheme  of  their  all  returning  to  settle  in  this  country. 
This  plan  had  been  given  up,  however,  and  the  bride  being 
established  again  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  it  be- 
came necessary  that  he  should  earn  her  by  going  there. 
Accordingly,  in  spring,  1818,  he  actually  resolved  to  do  so  ; 

15 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

•which  may  be  considered  as  one  of  the  greatest  achieve- 
ments of  love.  For  of  all  strong-minded  men,  there  never 
was  one  who,  from  what  he  deemed  a  just  estimate  of  its 
dangers,  but  in  truth  from  mere  nervous  horror,  recoiled 
with  such  sincerity  from  all  watery  adventures.  No  mat- 
ter whether  it  was  a  sea  that  was  to  be  crossed,  or  a  lake, 
or  a  stream,  or  a  pond.  It  was  enough  that  he  had  to  be 
afloat.  The  discomforts  of  a  voyage  to  America  in  1813, 
before  steam  had  shortened  the  way,  and  relieved  it  by 
every  luxury  enjoyable  by  a  landsman  at  sea,  were  very 
great.  To  these  were  added  the  more  material  dangers 
connected  with  the  war  then  subsisting  between  the  two 
countries,  and  the  almost  personal  passions  under  which 
it  was  conducted.  But  to  him  all  these  risks,  including 
even  that  of  detention,  were  immaterial.  The  sad  fact  was, 
that  the  Atlantic  was  not  made  of  solid  land. 

However,  his  mind  being  made  up,  he  set  about  it  reso- 
lutely. His  clients  were  left  to  their  fate ;  the  Review  to 
Thomson  and  Murray,  with  promises  of  articles  from  some 
of  its  best  contributors;  and  a  will  was  deposited  with 
George  Joseph  Bell,  which  conveyed  all  that  he  had  to 
trustees  for  certain  purposes.  The  trustees  were  four  re- 
lations— "and  my  excellent  friends  Geo.  J.  Bell,  John 
A.  Murray,  James  Campbell,  James  Keay,  and  Robert 
Graeme."  He  desired  them  "  to  take  and  give  to  each  of 
my  trustees  one  or  two  dozen  of  claret  from  my  cellar — 
and  also  a  book, 'or  picture,  or  piece  of  furniture — to  drink 
and  to  keep  in  memory  of  me."  Of  these  five,  Mr.  Murray 
and  Mr.  Bell  have  been  already  mentioned.  Mr.  Campbell 
(now  of  Craigie)  and  Mr.  Graeme  (now  of  Redgorton)  con- 
tinued to  be  his  excellent  friends  to  the  end  of  his  life.  So 
did  Mr.  Keay,  till  he  died  in  1837 — a  person  of  great 
worth  and  judgment,  and  who  had  risen  to  a  high  station 
at  the  bar. 

Having  armed  himself  with  all  the  official  papers  that 
could  be  got,  and  as  many  private  recommendations  as  he 


VOYAGE    TO    AMERICA.  171 

chose,  he  and  his  brother  went  to  Liverpool,  (May  1813)  to 
find  a  ship.  He  was  detained  there  a  long  while.  But  thia 
showed  him  all  the  celebrated  men  of  that  place ;  among 
others  Roscoe,  with  whom  he  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
struck.  He  returned  to  Edinburgh  in  July ;  and  at  last, 
after  many  obstacles,  set  sail  on  the  29th  of  August  in  a 
cartel,  "the  ship  full  of  visitors,  and  a  monstrous  music 
of  cheering  mariners,  squeaking  pigs,  and  crying  children." 

Of  course  he  kept  a  journal. 

The  sea  does  not  begin  to  be  abused  till  the  third  day, 
when  it  is  thus  dealt  with — "  No  land  in  sight,  and  none 
expected  till  we  see  America.  It  is  amazing  how  narrow 
and  paltry  the  boundless  sea  looks  when  there  are  no  high 
shores  in  sight  to  mark  its  boundaries  !  I  should  think  the 
eye. does  not  reach  more  than  seven  miles  of  the  surface  at 
any  time.  To-day  it  seems  not  much  larger  than  a  Spa- 
nish dollar,  and  much  of  that  complexion.  Not  a  sail  or 
any  vestige  of  man  since  the  ship  of  war  left  us.  Man, 
indeed,  has  left  no  traces  of  himself  on  the  watery  part 
of  the  globe.  He  has  stripped  the  land  of  its  wood,  and 
clothed  it  with  corn  and  with  cities ;  he  has  changed  its 
colour,  its  inhabitants,  and  all  its  qualities.  Over  it  he 
seems,  indeed,  to  have  dominion ;  but  the  sea  is  as  wild 
and  unsubdued  as  on  the  first  day  of  its  creation.  No  track 
left  of  the  innumerable  voyagers  who  have  traversed  it ; 
no  powers  over  its  movements,  or  over  the  winds  by  which 
they  are  influenced.  It  is  just  as  desert  and  unaltered  in 
all  particulars  as  before  its  bed  was  created ;  and  would 
be,  after  his  race  was  extinct.  Neither  time  nor  art  make 
any  alteration  here.  Continents  are  worn  down  and  con- 
solidated, and  the  forests  grow  up  or  rot  into  bog,  by  the 
mere  lapse  of  ages ;  but  the  great  expanses  of  the  ocean 
continue  with  the  same  surface  and  the  same  aspect  for 
ever,  and  are,  in  this  respect,  the  most  perfect  specimen 
of  antiquity,  and  carryback  the- imagination  the  farthest 
into  the  dark  abysses  of  time  passed  away." 


172  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

The  experience  of  the  first  eleven  days  enabled  him  to 
understand  the  charms  of  a  voyage,  which  are  thus  sum- 
med up  :  «  Wednesday,  8th  Sept.,  eight  o'clock  p.  M. — For 
these  last  seven  days  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  for 
violent  gales  and  violent  sea-sickness,  head-winds  and 
swimming  head,  the  whole  time  almost ;  fierce  south-west 
gales,  which,  with  eternal  motion  and  clamour,  have  not 
advanced  us  200  miles  on  our  course,  and  have  given  me  a 
great  idea  of  the  pleasures  of  a  voyage. — Imprimis,  Op- 
pressive and  intolerable  sickness,  coldness,  loathing,  and 
vertigo.  Secundo,  Great  occasional  fear  of  drowning,  and 
penitence  for  the  folly  of  having  come  voluntarily  in  the 
way  of  it.  Tertio,  There  is  the  impossibility  of  taking  any 
exercise,  and  the  perpetual  danger  of  breaking  your  limbs, 
if  you  try  to  move  from  your  chair  to  your  bed,  or  even  to 
sit  still  without  holding.  Quarto,  An  incessant  and  tre- 
mendous noise  of  the  ship  groaning  and  creaking,  cracking 
and  rattling ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  hissing  of  the  wind, 
and  the  boiling  and. bubbling  of  the  sea.  Quinto,  The 
eternal  contact  of  the  whole  crew,  whom  you  hear,  see,  feel, 
and  smell,  by  day  and  by  nigh't,  without  respite  or  possi- 
bility of  escape ;  crying  children,  chattering  Frenchmen, 
prosing  captain,  and  foolish  women,  all  with  you  for  ever, 
and  no  means  of  getting  out  of  their  hearing.  Sexto,  The 
provoking  uncertainty  of  your  fate,  never  going  150  miles 
in  one  day  on  your  way,  and  then  taking  seven  days  to 
100  ;  the  agreeable  doubt  whether  your  voyage  is  to  last 
three  weeks  or  three  months.  Septimo,  The  horrid  cooking 
and  the  disgusting  good  appetites  of  those  who  are  used  to 
it.  Octavo,  The  uniformity  and  narrowness  of  your  view, 
and  its  great  ugliness.  There  might  be  twenty  more  items, 
but  these  are  enough ;  and  in  consideration  of  these  alone, 
I  think  I  shall  make  a  covenant  with  myself,  that  if  I  get 
back  safe  to  my  own  place  from  this  expedition,  I  shall 
never  willingly  go  out  of  sight  of  land  again  in  my  life. 
There  is  nothing  -so  ugly  or  mean  as  the  sea  in  roughish 


VOYAGE   TO    AMERICA.     .  173 

weather.  The  circuit  very  narrow,  the  elevations  paltry, 
and  all  the  forms  ungraceful  and  ignoble.  It  looks  like  a 
nasty  field  deformed  with  heaps  of  rubbish,  half  shovelled 
and  .half  frozen ;  and  then  the  total  want  of  vegetable 
odour,  or  variety,  or  any  local  association,  makes  it  still 
more  uninteresting.  The  sunsets  are  sometimes  mag- 
nificent, but  rather  gloomy  and  terrible  ;  deep  recesses  of 
glowing  pillars  and  awful  prison  gates  of  red-hot  clouds, 
with  sunbeams  issuing  from  their  cavities,  and  spreading 
an  angry  and  awful  light  on  the  waters." 

However,  he  was  sometimes  consoled  by  a  capacity  of 
vulgar  enjoyment.  "  We  killed  a  pig  last  night,  and  made 

mock  turtle  soup  of  his  head  to-day.  Miss makes  us 

excellent  puddings  and  pies  every  day,  and  if  my  sickness 
keeps  off,  I  am  in  danger  of  getting  a  habit  of  gorman- 
dizing." 

"  I  have  lived  (he  says  on  the  10th  of  September)  so 
constantly  with  people  I  loved,  and  had  full  and  cordial 
intimacy  with,  that  it  is  always  quite  overwhelming  to  me 
to  be  left,  for  any  length  of  time,  with  those  to  whom  I  can 
feel  neither  familiarity  nor  affection.  I  have  endeavoured 
to  cure  this  feeling  by  almost  entirely  occupying  myself 
with  recollections  and  anticipations,  and  giving  such  dimen- 
sions to  the  past  and  future  as  to  make  the  present  of 
little  importance.  This  exercise  of  the  imagination  is  very 
delightful,  though  a  little  wearing  out ;  but  if  the  weather 
continue  fine,  I  shall  get  on  very  well  with  it." 

And  so  he  does,  for  there  follows  this  picture  of  a  day  at 
Hatton.  "Now  they  are  shooting  partridges  amidst  the 
singing  reapers,  and  by  the  side  of  inland  brooks  in  Scot- 
land ;  and  the  leaves  are  growing  brown  on  my  Hatton 
beeches,  and  the  uplands  are  purple  in  their  heath,  and  the 
air  is  full  of  fragrant  smell,  and  the  voices  of  birds ;  and 
Tuckey's*  eyes  are  glittering  wild  with  joy,  and  every  hour 

*  Tuckey  was  his  nickname  for  one  of  Morehead's  little  girls. 
15* 


174  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

is  bringing  some  new  face  and  some  new  tiling  to  the  happy 
dwellers  in  those  accessible  scenes.  While  here,  there  is 
the  eternal  barrenness  of  the  water,  and  the  hissing  of  the 
•winds,  and  the  same  unvarying  band  of  fellow  prisoners, 
and  eternal  longing  for  a  termination  that  is  altogether 
uncertain.  But  it  will  come  in  some  shape  or  other." 

And  a  Sunday  there  is  thus  recalled.  "  Sunday  12th,  two 
o'clock. — Calm,  calm,  oppressively  and  relentlessly  calm, 
since  seven  o'clock  this  morning,  and  likely  enough,  from 
all  appearances,  to  continue  so.  An  enchanting  day,  too, 
if  we  could  be  on  shore ;  warm,  still,  and  glorious,  with 
bright  frothy  clouds  and  sighing  airs;  enough  to  rustle 
leaves  and  fan  the  brows  of  fatigue ;  but  here  only  flapping 
our  sails  and  spreading  the  nauseous  smell  of  our  pork 
boiling  all  over  the  ship.  There  is  nothing  so  sweet  to  my 
imagination  as  a  bright  calm  Sunday  in  the  early  part  of 
autumn ;  gilding  with  its  temperate  splendour  the  yellow 
fields  and  holy  spires,  and  carrying  on  its  still  and  silent 
air  the  soothing  sounds  that  fall  and  expire  in  that  mild 
pause  of  labour ;  lowing  oxen,  bleating  sheep,  and  crowing 
cocks,  heard  from  farm  to  farm,  through  the  clear  air  ;  and 
even  the  wood  pigeons  and  roosting  crows  resounding 
through  far  groves ;  and  the  distant  tinkling  of  bells,  and 
the  slow  groups  wandering  from  church,  and  the  aspect  of 
peace,  and  plenty,  and  reflection,  that  meets  the  eyes  on 
all  sides.  At  sea,  however,  there  is  nothing  but  a  wearisome 
glare,  and  a  sickening  heave  of  the  water,  and  fretting, 
and  gloom,  and  impatience." 

The  next  Sunday  revives  similar  associations.  "  Sunday, 
19th  September,  eight  o'clock. — I  have  been  thinking  all 
day  of  my  sweet  leisure  autumn  Sundays  at  Hatton  last 
year ;  my  early  walks  in  the  calm  sunshine  of  the  morning ; 
my  gray  stairs,  with  the  dewy  flowers  beside  me ;  and 
Tuckey's  cherub  voice  and  glittering  eyes ;  my  languid 
reading,  and  careless  talking  all  the  morning ;  my  little 
contemplative  trot  before  dinner  ;  our  airy  tea  drinkings, 


VOYAGE   TO   AMERICA.  175 

with  the  open  windows,  and  the  swallows  skimming  past 
them  ;  our  long  twilight  social  walks  ;  Tuckey's  undressing, 
prayers,  and  slumbers  ;  my  butter  milk  potations,  quiet  bed- 
readings,  and  gazing  on  the  soft  moon  that  shone  in  upon  rny 
slumbers  through  the  ever  open  windows.  What  a  contrast 
my  last  three  Sundays  have  afforded  to  this  simple  but  happy 
life  !  To  console  myself,*!  am  obliged  to  look  forward  to 
New  York,  and  make  a  rival  picture  of  peace  and  love 
there.  Fancy,  though,  is  less  tranquil  and  sure  in  her 
work  than  memory." 

The  twenty-third  day  appears  to  have  been  a  heavy  one. 
But  he  seems  to  set  this  down  partly  to  the  "indefinite  de- 
lay of  all  that  is  most  interesting  in  existence," — which,  I 
suppose,  means  the  bridegroom's  impatience.  "  Monday, 
20th  Sept.,  eight  o'clock. — Another  -weary,  melancholy 
day;  not  very  heroically  borne.  Calm,  dead  oppressive 
calm,  almost  without  intermission  from  this  time  last  night 
till  now.  Two  lovely  evenings  too  ;  and  the  day  so  balmy, 
bland,  and  tranquil,  as  ought  to  have  made  it  a  pleasure  to 
exist  merely.  But  it  was  not ;  for  I  languished  so  for  the 
scenes  where  it  would  have  been  a -pleasure,  and  felt  such 
impatience  to  reach  that  end  of  the  tedious  way,  that  I 
have  been  substantially  wretched  and  shamefully  low.  If 
I  thought  it  could  have  done  me  any  good,  I  could,  with 
great  good-will,  have  crept  into  a  corner  and  cried.  The 
sky  was  beautiful.  A  light  varied  dome  of  gray  clouds 
resting  on  a  zone  of  brighter  silver,  all  wrought  over  like 
embossed  silver,  with  a  raised  pattern  of  darker  clouds ; 
and  the  sea  shining  below  like  a  vast  pavement,  or  a  molten 
sea  in  the  temple  of  Solomon.  This  evening,  again,  the 
sunset  was  magnificent,  when  he  descended  from  the  more 
solid  canopy,  and  looked  through  the  horizontal  rim ;  and 
then,  after  he  went  down,  the  stars  shone  out  with  such 
dewy  softness  and  summer  sweetness,  and  the  south  wind 
breathed  so  low  and  gently,  that  I  almost  fancied  that  I 
could  smell  the  orange  and  myrtle  groves  of  the  Western 


176  LIFE   OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 

Islands,  (they  are  not  above  200  miles  off,  I  take  it,)  and 
hear  their  piping  shepherds,  and  goats  bleating  on  their 
twilight  rocks.  The  picture  of  Ilatton,  though,  and  my 
sweet  summer  evenings  in  those  less  romantic  "shades  soon 
spoiled  that  picture,  and  my  usual  regret  and  impatience 
returned." 

The  only  thing  like  a  gale  that  relieved  their  monotony 
\vas  too  slight  to  raise  his  respect  for  the  ocean.  "  Tues- 
day, 21st  Sept.,  evening. — We  have  had  a  real  gale  of  wind 
to-day,  for  the  first  time,  and  it  has  neither  made  me  sick 
nor  terrified  me.  Moreover,  it  has  carried  us,  I  dare  say, 
130  miles  on  our  course,  and  done  us  more  good  than 
all  the  winds  and  calms  of  the  last  five  days.  It  began 
about  three  this  morning,  and  waked  us  all  before  daybreak. 
Notwithstanding  the  splashing  of  the  spray,  I  spent  several 
hours  on  deck,  and  never  saw  an  uglier  scene ;  and,  what 
is  worse,  ugly,  I  think,  without  being  sublime  or  terrible. 
I  fancy,  however,  I  have  a  spite  at  the  sea,  for  I  cannot 
bring  myself  to  think  or  speak  of  it  without  a  certain  con- 
tempt, as  well  as  dislike.  The  sky  was  very  dark,  and  the 
water  blue  black,  with  a  little  foam,  and  many  broad  spots 
of  dirty  green,  where  the  swell  had  recently  broke.  For 
the  mountain  waves  one  reads  about  in  descriptions,  they 
seemed  to  me  very  poor,  paltry  little  slopes,  not  more  than 
twenty  feet  high,  by  about  three  times  as  much  in  breadth, 
tossing  very  irregularly,  and  all  wrinkled  or  covered  over 
their  convexity  in  the  direction  of  the  gale.  The  only 
things  that  had  a  sort  of  dreary  magnificence  were  some 
black-looking  birds  screaming  through  the  mist,  and  a  sort 
of  smoking  spray  which  the  wind  swept  from  the  water,  and 
kept  hanging  like  a  vapour  all  over  its  surface.  We  went 
very  easily  through  this  sea  at  the  rate  of  better  than 
seven  miles  an  hour.  If  I  had  been  in  a  little  boat,  or  a 
crazy  old  ship,  I  dare  say  I  should  have  been  terrified  ; 
but  as  it  was,  the  spectacle  seemed  to  me  very  contemp- 
tible and  paltry." 


VOYAGE   TO   AMERICA.  177 

But  on  the  23d — «  The  sunset  was  most  superb,  from  the 
astonishing  variety  of  shades  and  colours.  The, sky  was 
cloudy  all  round  ;  at  least  four  different  layers  of  clouds, 
all  broken  and  seen  behind  each  other  in  different  tints  and 
degrees  of  glory,  kindling  and  curling  in  the  finest  groups 
and  perspective.  At  different  moments,  and  at  different 
quarters,  I  am  sure  it  might  have  furnished  a  painter  with 
a  hundred  skies,  every  .one  singulai-ly  rich  and  beautiful. 
A  panorama  of  it,  with  the  black  flat  sea  brightened  in  va- 
rious tints  beneath,  would  have  made  a  splendid  exhibition." 

They  caught  cod  on  the  26th,  off  Newfoundland ;  "  huge 
victims,  who  seemed  of  a  bulk  worthy  of  the  ocean." 
"  There  was  something  grand  indeed,  though  very  dreary,  in 
watching  the  irregular  heaves  of  the  misty  billows  under 
the  dark  and  heavy  sky,  and  the  wheeling  of  the  innume- 
rable birds  that  hovered  in  our  wake  to  pick  up  the  offal 
that  our  butchery  threw  overboard.  This  set  some  of  tho 
men  upon  a  new  sport,  which  it  seems  is  common  in  these 
regions.  They  fastened  a  bit  of  fat  upon  a  small  hook,  and 
let  it  float  astern.  The  birds  darted  after  it  in  crowds, 
and  tore  it  from  each  other  with  clamour,  till  the  hook 
fastened  on  one  more  voracious  than  the  rest.  They  very 
soon  caught  four  or  five  in  this  way ;  but  as  they  confessed 
they  were  good  for  nothing,  we  persuaded  them  to  give  up 
that  cruel  pastime.  The  quickness  of  sight  in  these  crea- 
tures is  astonishing.  Yesterday  we  threw  out  little  bits 
of  grease,  not  larger  than  a  bean,  and  repeatedly  saw  them 
check  and  pounce  upon  it  from  a  distance  of  many  hun- 
dred yards.  Their  agility,  and  the  force  and  ease  of  their 
motions,  are  beautiful ;  and  I  amused  myself  for  a  long 
time  in  watching  them  skim  close  along  the  smooth  and 
misty  water,  noAV  dipping  one  end  of  their  long  wings,  and 
now  the  other,  now  soaring  aloft,  and  then  diving  for  a 
long  time  out  of  sight  under  water,  and  rising  and  cackling 
with  joy  and  loquacity." 

The  4th  of  October  was  the  joyous  day.  "  Land,  ho  ! 
M 


178  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

such  was  the  joyful  cry  that  startled  us  about  one  o'clock 
from  the  mast-head,  and  immediately  we  were  all  on  the 
rigging  to  gaze  at  it.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  it  was 
plain  enough  from  the  deck ;  stretching  like  a  long,  low, 
dark  cloud  along  the  bright  edge  of  the  horizon.  It  was 
then  about  ten  miles  off,  but  we  neared  it  very  fast,  and 
soon  distinguished  woody  hills,  and  coloured  fields  beneath, 
and  a  bright  zone  of  white  sand  or  gravel  binding  all  the 
shore ;  and  various  villages  and  human  dwellings  scattered 
along  the  beach.  Columbus  himself  could  not  be  more 
delighted  than  I  was  at  this  discovery ;  and  the  sight  of 
stationary  dwellings  sending  up  quiet  smoke  among  the 
trees,  and  the  spires  of  rustic  churches,  and  deep  brown 
shades,  and  all  the  common  traces  of  human  habitation  and 
rustic  life,  came  like  a  glimpse  of  paradise  upon  my  fa- 
mished eyes,  and  gave  me  a  sense  of  refreshment  and  joy 
that  I  have  not  known  since  I  left  Scotland.  The  day  was 
lovely  and  unclouded,  and  the  appearance,  however  dis- 
tant, of  comfort  and  secure  life,  peasants  eating  apples 
and  new  bread,  and  drinking  new  milk  under  their  own 
trees,  appeared  to  me  like  the  summit  of  human  felicity. 
Unfortunately,  'however,  we  were  indulged  but  with  a  very 
transient  glimpse  of  those  beauties." 

They  were  not  only  not  allowed  to  land  at  once,  but'  for 
two  or  three  days  were  in  danger  of  being  ordered  to  repair 
to  a  place  about  five  hundred  miles  off.  However,  after 
much  alarm  and  negotiation,  the  voyage,  in  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  was  brought  to  a  close  on  its  fortieth  day.  He 
and  his  brother  were  set  ashore  early  on  the  morning  of  the 
7th  October;  and  that  day  "we  made  our  way  to  Mr. 
Wilkes's,  where  I  found  the  object  of  this  tedious  navi- 
gation." 

He  continued  in  America  till  the  22d  of  January,  1814. 
In  November,  after  his  marriage,  he  visited  a  few  of  the 
principal  cities  of  the  Union.  But  his  journal,  though 
minute,  records  nothing,  even  in  his  favourite  lines  of  re- 


VOYAGE    TO   AMERICA.  179 

flection  and  speculation,  that  would  now  interest  others. 
He  appears  to  have  seen  many  important  people,  and  to 
have  been  very  kindly  received.  He  had  two  curious  in- 
terviews, one  with  Mr.  Monroe,  the  secretary,  and  one  with 
Mr.  Madison,  the  President ;  of  which  he  gives  a  very 
striking  account.  He  had  a  power  of  reporting  what  he 
heard,  whether  speeches  or  conversation,  more  fully  and 
accurately  than  almost  any  other  person  trusting  to  me- 
mory alone.  A  conversation  reported  by  Jeffrey,  where 
he  spoke  confidently,  was,  in  its  substance,  fully  as  correct, 
and  nearly  as  fresh,  as  the  original. 

He  had  gone  to  the  secretary  to  learn  whether  there 
was  any  hope  of  his  obtaining  a  cartel  for  his  return  to 
Britain.  After  being  promised  every  possible  accommo- 
dation, the  conversation  was  drawn  on  by  Mr.  Monroe  to 
the  war,  its  provocations,  principles,  and  probable  results ; 
and  particularly  to  the  right  claimed  by  England  of  search- 
ing American  vessels  for  the  recovery  of  British  subjects. 
These  were  matters  with  which  Jeffrey  was  probably  as 
familiar  as  even  the  able  and  official  person  with  whom 
he  was  talking ;  because  the  rights  of  neutrals  had  been 
more  than  once  discussed  in  the  Review,  and  in  at  least 
one  article  by  Jeffrey  himself;  and,  in  so  far  as  the  right 
of  searching  ships  of  war  for  British  deserters  or  subjects 
was  involved,  the  principles  there  maintained  were  strongly 
against  the  English  claim.  But  though  not  satisfied  of  the 
existence  of  the  right  claimed,  he  seems  to  have  thought 
that  it  would  be  paltry  not  to  stand  by  his  country,  before 
an  enemy  who  had  him  in  his  power.  Accordingly,  he 
took  the  side  of  Britain  during  an  animated,  though  po- 
litely conducted  argument,  which,  after  lasting  a  long  time 
one  day,  was  renewed  the  next. 

After  this,  but  on  the  same  day,  (18th  November,  1813,) 
he  had  the  honour  of  dining  with  the  President,  when  he 
had  another  discussion  with  him.  By  tne  advice  of  the 
secretary,  he  took  occasion,  when  he  was  about  to  retire, 


180  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

to  thank  his  excellency  for  the  indulgence  he  had  met 
with  in  the  matter  of  the  cartel.  "  This  was  received  in  a 
composed,  civil  way ;  and  then  his  excellency  proceeded 
to  say  that  it  was  the  wish  of  his  government  to  set  an 
example  of  the  utmost  liberality  in  every  thing,  and  to 
prove  to  the  world  that  nothing  but  absolute  necessity 
should  ever  induce  them  to  adopt  those  principles  of  war- 
fare which  had  been  directed  against  them.  I  said  I 
trusted  the  English  nation  stood  in  need  of  no  lessons  in 
these  particulars,  and  that  in  her  present  unfortunate  hos- 
tilities with  America,  would  show  the  same  spirit  of  gene- 
rosity which  had  distinguished  even  her  most  impolitic 
wars.  He  took  up  this  a  little  warmly,  and  said  that  the 
way  in  which  she  had  attacked  the  defenceless  villages, 
threatened  the  citizens  with  the  fate  of  traitors,  and  bro- 
ken off  the  agreements  entered  into  by  their  own  agents  as 
to  the  exchange  of  prisoners,  did  not  say  much  for  their 
spirit  of  generosity,  and  that  the  very  pretence  in  which 
the  war  originated,  the  obstinacy  and  insolence  with  which 
all  satisfaction  had  been  refused,  and  the  extraordinary 
form  in  which  negotiation  was  ultimately  offered,  could 
leave -little  doubt  on  any  impartial  mind  as  to  the  temper 
by  which  it  was  carried  on  on  the  part  of  England.  I  was 
a  little  surprised  at  this  sort  of  challenge  to  discussion, 
thrown  out  by  a  sovereign  to  a  private  individual  in  his 
own  drawing-room.  I  felt,  however,  that  it  was  not  my 
part  to  decline  it;  and  being  somewhat  au  fait  of  the  mat- 
ter by  my  discussion  with  the  secretary,  I  did  not  hesitate 
to  accept.  We  entered  accordingly  upon  a  discussion 
which  lasted  nearly  two  hours,  and  embrace^  all  the  topics 
which  I  had  gone  over  with  Mr.  M. ;  very  nearly  upon  the 
same  grounds,  and  to  the  same  results  ;  though  maintained 
on  the  part  of  the  President  with  rather  more  caution  and 
reserve,  more  shyness  as  to  concessions,  and  a  tone  con- 
siderably more  acrimonious  toward  England ;  though  per 
fectly  civil,  and  even  courteous  to  myself." 


RETURN    FROM   AMERICA.  181 

After  repeating  the  substance  of  each  of  these  confer- 
ences to  Mr.  Wilkes,  as  soon  as  they  were  over,  and  thus 
impressing  it  on  his  mind,  he  wrote  it  down,  so  that  it  is 
probably  as  correct  and  minute  an  account  of  three  conver- 
sational discussions  as  it  is  possible  ever  to  have.  His  de- 
fence of  the  general  conduct  of  this  country,  both  in  the 
origin  and  in  the  conduct  of  the  war,  was  manly  and  able  ; 
and,  in  so  far  as  it  depends  on  general  reasoning,  apart 
from  the  authority  of  jurists,  who  were  not  taken  into 
council  on  either  side,  I  doubt  if  the  right  of  search  was 
ever  more  powerfully  maintained.  Whatever  the  truth 
of  the  case  may  be,  he  had  clearly  the  best  of  these  argu- 
ments ;  though  it  be  cert^;n  that  those  of  his  opponents  do 
not  suffer  from  his  statement  of  them. 

He  left  New  York,  on  his  homeward  voyage,  on  the  22d 
of  January,  1814,  and  reached  Liverpool  on  the  10th  of 
February.  "  Once  more  on  British  ground,  and  done,  I 
hope  for  ever,  with  nautical  journals."  "I  return  to  you 
(he  tells  Mrs.  Morehead,  in  a  letter  of  the  9th  of  February, 
while  still  on  ship-board,)  unchanged  in  every  thing,  and  if 
possible,  still  more  tenderly  attached  to  Scotland,  and  all 
it  contains,  than  ever."  To  which  he  adds  next  day  on  hia 
landing:  "Arrived  once  more  on  my  own  land."  "Hea- 
ven bless  you  all, — and  Tuckey  above  all ;  of  whom  you  do 
not  tell  me  one-half  enough.  I  am  quite  feverish  with  joy 
at  feeling  myself  again  so  near  you,  and  never  to  be  parted 
so  far  again." 

He  was  very  speedily  established  at  home ;  with  its  re- 
kindled light  of  domestic  love.  It  would  be  presumptuous 
arid  indelicate  to  make  the  lady  he  brought  among  us  a 
subject  of  public  description.  I  shall  only  say  that  almost 
the  whole  happiness  of  his  future  life  flowed  from  this 
union  ;  and  that  Mrs.  Jeffrey  uniformly  showed  that  she 
deserved  the  affection  with  which  she  inspired  all  his  friends. 
Alas !  it  is  easy  to  utter  these  words !  But  how  inade- 
quate are  they  to  recall,  vividly,  what  they  are  meant  to 

16 


182  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

convey!  The  whole  scene  has  passed  away,  and  every 
hour  weakens  its  impressions.  The  thirty-four  years  d\ir- 
ing  which  they  were  united  have  fled,  and  he  and  she  are 
but  remembered.  Could  we  now  feel  over  again  the  delights 
of  a  single  day  passed  with  them  in  the  country,  or  of  a 
single  evening  over  their  social  fire,  we  would  then  know, 
better  than  we  could  when  it  was  familiar,  the  depth  of  the 
natural  and  cheerful  happiness  which  she  diffused  round  her 
husband  and  his  friends. 

In  his  first  letter  to  Homer  after  reaching  home,  (3d 
May,  1814,)  he  expresses  his  regret  that  he  cannot,  like 
everybody  else,  run  over  and  see  France  ;  because,  though 
strongly  tempted,  he  could  not  move  so  soon  again.  "  In 
the  mean  time  I  intend  to  cultivate  the  domestic  virtues, 
and  all  manner  of -plants  and  flowers.  I  grow  every  day 
more  sick  of  the  necessity  of  working ;  and  have  serious 
thoughts  of  going  into  a  cottage  and  living  on  X300  a  year. 
Only  it  is  rather  too  little,  and  I  should  like  to  have  the 
means  of  moving  about  a  little."  This  makes  a  very  good 
sentence  in  a  letter;  especially  one  addressed  to  a  friend 
who  was  in  no  danger  of  being  misled  by  it.  But  there 
was  nothing  less  seriously  in  his  mind  at  this  time,  even 
with  a  new  wife,  than  retirement,  and  cottages,  and  .£300 
a  year.  He  saw  the  bar  now  fairly  open  to  him  ;  and  re- 
turned with  increased  alacrity  to  his  professional,  literary, 
and  social  pursuits. 

When  he  had  sailed  for  America,  in  August,  1813, 
the  issue  of  the  invasion  of  Russia  by  France  was  uncer- 
tain;  and  his  fears  being  far  stronger  than  his  hopes,  he 
had  gone  away  with  the  gloomiest  views  of  public  af- 
fairs. By  the  time  that  he  returned,  the  invading  host  was 
dissipated,  and  the  war  was  miraculously  ended,  amidst 
events,  and  after  experiences,  which  seemed  to  promise  per- 
manent peace  to  the  world.  He  was  astonished  and  de- 
lighted, and  gave  expression  to  his  feelings  in  the  very  next 
article  that  he  wrote  for  the  Review ;  being  that  beautiful 


NAPOLEON   AND   WAR.  183 

one  on  «  The  State  and  Prospects  of  Europe"  (No.  45, 
art.  1 ;)  to  which,  lest  his  predictions  of  a  millennium 
should  be  refuted  by  circumstances  not  then  existing,  he 
gave  the  special  date  of  the  5th  of  May,  1814.  This  was 
remarkable,  he  says,  as  the  first  occasion  on  which  the  Re- 
view and  the  whole  public  had  ever  been  of  one  mind. 
"  It  would  be  strange  indeed,  we  think,  if  pages,  dedicated 
like  ours  to  topics  of  present  interest,  and  the  discussions 
of  the  passing  hour,  should  be  ushered  into  the  world  at 
such  a  moment  as  this,  without  some  stamp  of  that  com- 
mon joy  and  overwhelming  emotion  with  which  the  wonder- 
ful events  of  the  last  three  months  are  still  filling  all  the 
regions  of  the  earth.  In  such  a  situation  it  must  be  diffi- 
cult for  any  one  who  has  the  means  of  being  heard,  to  re- 
frain from  giving  utterance  to  his  sentiments.  But  to  usf 
whom  it  has  assured,  for  the  first  time,  of  the  entire  sym- 
pathy of  our  countrymen,  the  temptation  we  own  is  irre- 
sistible." And  then  he  goes  on  to  the  most  beautiful, 
and  the  most  intelligent,  of  all  the  many  songs  of  triumph 
that  poetry  and  oratory  sang  upon  the  novelty  that  had 
lightened  every  heart.  "  It  had  come  upon  the  world  like 
the  balmy  air  and  flushing  verdure  of  a  late  spring,  after 
the  dreary  chills  of  a  long  and  interminable  winter  ;  and 
the  refreshing  sweetness  with  which  it  has  visited  the  earth, 
feels  like  Elysium  to  those  who  have  just  escaped  from  the 
driving  tempests  it  has  banished." 

He  had  all  along  been  too  sincerely  afraid  of  the  war  not 
to  rejoice  in  its  termination,  without  troubling  himself 
about  the  principles  or  the  objects  of  the  .powers  by  the 
success  of  whose  troops  it  had  been  ended.  There  were 
philosophers,  and  even  patriots,  who  saw  nothing  in  Napo- 
leon's landing  at  Frejus  except  the  acquiescence  of  a  legi- 
timately elected  sovereign  in  a  call  by  his  subjects  for  his 
return  from  a  state  of  compulsory  banishment,  to  govern 
them  ;  and  in  whose  eyes  the  glory  of  Waterloo  was  dimmed 
by  its  being  only  a  part  of  the  scheme  for  imposing  a  go- 


184  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

vernment  on  France  by  the  force  of  foreign  arms.  The 
Review  was  open  to  the  discussion  of  all  such  ideas ;  but 
Jeffrey's  own  opinion  was  clear,  that  a  continuation  of  the 
war,  and  of  Napoleon's  military  despotism,  were  the  greatest 
of  all  immediate  evils,  and  that  whatever  ended  both  ought 
to  gratify  reasonable  men.  I  cannot  discover  any  thing 
offensive  in  the  Review  about  this  time,  either  on  this  or 
on  any  other  subject ;  but  Mr.  Homer  seems  to  have  con- 
demned something  which  I  suspect  was  connected  with  the 
Whigs  and  the  allies,  so  strongly,  as  to  have  indicated  an 
inclination  to  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  work.  This 
produced  an  admirable  defence  (12th  March,  1815)  by 
Jeffrey,  both  of  his  own  conduct  as  editor,  and  of  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  any  such  work  must  necessarily  be  con- 
ducted. The  letter  is  too  long  to  be  quoted  here,  but  it  ia 
a  sound  and  high-minded  exposition,  which  cannot  be  read 
without  admiration  of  his  spirit  and  honour.* 

Horner  soon  afterward  (2d  June,  1815)  asked  his  opinion 
of  the  "  new  war,"  and  blamed  the  allied  attack  on  France. 
To  this  he  received  a  plain  answer ;  the  substance  of 
which  was — "  I  am  mortally  afraid  of  the  war,  and  I  think 
that  is  all  I  can  say  about  it.  I  hate  Bonaparte,  too,  be- 
cause he  makes  me  more  afraid  than  anybody  else ;  and 
seems  more  immediately  the  cause  of  my  paying  income- 
tax,  and  having  my  friends  killed  by  dysenteries  and  gun- 
shot wounds,  and  making  my  country  unpopular,  bragging, 
and  servile,  and  every  thing  that  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be. 
I  do  think,  too,  that  the  risk  was,  and  is,  far  more  immi- 
nent and  tremendous  of  the  subversion  of  all  national  inde- 
pendence, and  all  peaceful  virtues,  and  mild  and  generous 
habits,  by  his  insolent  triumph,  than  by  the  success  of  the 
most  absurd  of  those  who  are  allied  against  him." 

He  had  left  Hatton  in  the  autumn  of  1814,  and  in  the 
spring  of  1815  transferred  his  rural  deities  to  Craigcrook, 

1  ~~T~ 

*  Appendix. 


CRAIGCROOK.  185 

•where  he  passed  all  his  future  summers.  It  is  on  the  east- 
ern slope  of  Corstorphine  Hill,  about  three  miles  to  the 
north-west  of  Edinburgh.  When  he  first  became  the 
tenant,  the  house  was  only  an  old  keep,  respectable  from  age, 
but  inconvenient  for  a  family ;  and  the  ground  was  merely 
a  bad  kitchen  garden,  of  about  an  acre ;  all  in  paltry  dis- 
order. He  immediately  set  about  reforming.  Some  ill- 
placed  walls  were  removed ;  while  others,  left  for  shelter, 
were  in  due  time  loaded  with  gorgeous  ivy,  and  both  pro- 
tected and  adorned  the  garden.  A  useful,  though  humble, 
addition  was  made  to  the  house.  And,  by  the  help  of 
neatness,  sense,  evergreens,  and  flowers,  it  was  soon  con 
verted  into  a  sweet  and  comfortable  retreat.  The  .house 
received  a  more  important  addition  many  years  afterward ; 
but  it  was  sufficient  without  this  for  all  that  his  family  and 
his  hospitalities  at  first  required.  But  by  degrees,  that 
earth  hunger  which  the  Scotch  ascribe  to  the  possession  of 
any  portion  of  the  soil,  came  upon  him,  and  he  enlarged  and 
improved  all  his  appurtenances.  Two  sides  of  the  mansion 
were  flanked  by  handsome  bits  of  evergreened  lawn;  Two 
or  three  western  fields  had  their  stone  fences  removed,  and 
were  thrown  into  one,  which  sloped  upward  from  the  house 
to  the  hill,  and  was  crowned  by  a  beautiful  bank  of  wood  ; 
and  the  whole  place,  which  now  extended  to  thirty  or  forty 
acres,  was  always  in  excellent  keeping.  Its  two  defects 
were,  that  it  had  no  stream,  and  that  the  hill  robbed  the 
house  of  much  of  the  sunset.  Notwithstanding  this,  it  was 
a  most  delightful  spot;  the  best  for  his  purposes  that  he 
could  have  found.  The  low  ground,  consisting  of  the 
house  and  its  precincts,  contained  all  that  could  be  desired 
for  secluded  quiet  and  for  reasonable  luxury.  The  high 
commanded  magnificent  and  beautiful  views,  embracing 
some  of  the  distant  mountains  in  the  shires  of  Perth  and 
Stirling,  the  near  inland  sea  of  the  Frith  of  Forth,  Edin- 
burgh and  its  associated  heights,  and  the  green  and  peace- 
ful nest  of  Craigcrook  itself. 

16* 


186 


LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 


During  the  thirty-four  seasons  that  he  passed  there, 
•what  a  scene  of  happiness  was  that  spot !  To  his  own 
household  it  was  all  that  their  hearts  desired.  Mrs.  Jef- 
frey knew  the  genealogy  and  the  personal  history  and 
character  of  every  shrub  and  flower  it  contained.  It  was 
the  most  favourite  resort  of  his  friends,  who  knew  no  such 
enjoyment  as  Jeffrey  at  that  place.  And,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Abbotsford,  there  were  more  interesting  stran- 
gers there  than  in  any  house  in  Scotland.  Saturday,  during 
the  summer  session  of  the  courts,  was  always  a  day  of  fes- 
tivity ;  chiefly,  but  by  no  means  exclusively,  for  his  friends 
at  the  bar,  many  of  whom  were  under  general  invitations. 
Unlike  some  barbarous  tribunals  which  feel  no  difference 
between  the  last  and  any  other  day  of  the  week,  but  moil 
on  with  the  same  stupidity  through  them  all,  and  would 
include  Sunday  if  they  could,  our  legal  practitioners,  like 
most  of  the  other  sons  of  bondage  in  Scotland,  are  liberated 
earlier  on  Saturday ;  and  the  Craigcrook  party  began  to 
assemble  about  three,  each  taking  to  his  own  enjoyment. 
The  bowling-green  was  sure  to  have  its  matches,  in  which 
the  host  joined  with  skill  and  keenness ;  the  garden  had 
its  loiterers;  the  flowers,  not  forgetting  the  wall  of  glori- 
ous yellow  roses,  their  worshippers;  the  hill,  its  prospect 
seekers.  The  banquet  that  followed  was  generous ;  the  wines 
n'ever  spared  ;  but  rather  too  various  ;  mirth  unrestrained, 
except  by  propriety ;  the  talk  always  good,  but  never  ambi- 
tious ;  and  mere  listeners  in  no  disrepute.  What  can  efface 
these  days,  or  indeed  any  Craigcrook  day,  from  the  recol- 
lection of  those  who  had  the  happiness  of  enjoying  them  ?* 

*  A  fictitious  person  of  the  name  of  Morris,  (but  who  represents  a  restl 
man,  and  a  powerful  writer,)  and  who,  in  Peter's  Letters  to  his  Kinsfolk, 
published  in  1819,  professes  to  describe  Edinburgh  and  its  neighbour- 
hood, mentions,  as  if  he  had  seen  it,  a  Craigcrook  scene,  where  the  whole 
party,  including  Mr.  Playfair,  who  died  in  July,  1819,  aged  seventy-one, 
took  off  their  coats  and  had  a  leaping  match.  As  the  liveliness  and  in- 
dividuality of  Dr.  Morris's  descriptions  have"taade  some  of  the  simple 


VISITS   THE   CONTINENT.  187 

*  f 

Homer  wrote  to  him  recommending  the  Baconian  gar- 
dening.* To  which  he  answers,  (9th  June,  1815,)  "I  in- 
tended to  have  been  heretical  in  the  other  way,  and  to  have 
accused  you  of  affectation,  for  professing  an  admiration  of 
Bacon's  style  of  gardening.  I  am  not  for  bold  staring 
houses,  and  bare  lawns,  any  more  than  you  are.  But 
really  they  are  considerably  more  tolerable  than  a  paltry 
wilderness  of  four  square  acres,  or  groves  and  arbours,  <  or 
fair  pillars  of  carpenters'  work ;'  and  the  truth  is,  that  you 
durst  no  more  make  such  a  horrid  Dutch  Lust  field,  than 
you  durst  put  on  the  quilted  breeches  and  the  high-crowned 
hat  of  the  great  philosopher.  However,  come  to  Craig- 
crot)k,  and  debate  the  matter  manfully." 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year,  (1815,)  he  gratified  his  desire 
of  seeing  the  Continent  for  the  first  time.  The  immediate 
temptation  was,  that  he  could  have  the  company  and  the 
aid  of  Mons.  Simond.  Madame  Simond  remained  with 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  at  Craigcrook.  In  writing  to  Mr.  Richard- 
son for  his  passports,  (14th  September,  1815,)  "  Can  I  do 
any  thing  for  you  where  I  am  going  ?  I  go,  after  all,  with 
a  heavy  heart,  and  would  rather  stay  at  home.  Nothing 
that  I  shall  see  abroad,  I  am  sure,  will  give  me  half  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  my  friends  again  upon  my  return ;  and 
it  is  quite  refreshing  to  think  that  I  may  have  a  peep  of  so 
many  of  them  at  Hampstead,f  as  I  pass  through  London." 

Yet  he  was  only  away  about  a  month  ;  having  reached 
Rotterdam  from  Harwich  on  the  24th  of  September,  and 
returned  to  Dover  on  the  25th  of  October.  He  ran  through 
Holland  and  Flanders,  seeing  the  common  sights  of  galle- 
ries and  curious  towns  ;  and  was  above  a  fortnight  in  Paris. 
A  full  and  minute  journal  details  the  proceedings  of  every 

believe  them  to  be  all  real,  it  may  be  as  well  to  say  that  this  is  entirely 
a  fancy  piece.  And,  for  so  skilful  a  painter,  it  is  not  well  fancied. 
It  is  totally  unlike  the  Craigcrook  proceedings,  and  utterly  repugnant  tc 
all  the  habits  of  Mr.  Playfair. 

*"See  Homer's  Memoirs,  ii.  249.     •{•  Where  Mr.  Richardson  then  livea. 


186  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFHEY. 

day.  These  were  interesting  then,  from  the  novelty  of 
scenes  that  had  been  closed  against  the  British  traveller 
for  nearly  twenty-five  years.  But  now  that  they  are  fami- 
liar to  every  one,  there  is  no  particular  attraction  in  the 
statement  of  even  Jeffrey's  observations  and  impressions. 
To  himself,  at  the  time,  it  was  their  novelty  that  chiefly 
struck  him ;  and  he  calls  what  he  was  writing  a  mere  tra- 
veller's guide-book.  Though  lively  and  descriptive,  it  is  not 
worth  quoting.  One  of  the  few  reflections  that  he  makes 
was  at  Waterloo:  "Half  of  the  ground  is  now  ploughed 
up ;  and  except  the  broken  trees  and  burnt  offices  at  IIu- 
gomon.t,  there  is  nothing  to  mark  the  s*cene  of  so  much 
havoc  and  desolation.  The  people  are  ploughing  and  reap- 
ing, and  old  men  following  their  old  occupations,  in  their 
old  fields,  as  if  60,000  youths  had  not  fallen  to  manure 
them  within  these  six  months.  The  tottering  chimney  tops 
are  standing,  the  glass  unbroken  in  the  windows,  the  roads 
and  paths  all  winding  as  before,  the  grass  as  green,  and 
the  trees  as  fresh,  as  if  this  fiery  deluge  of  war  had  not 
rolled  over  the  spot  on  which  they  are  standing.  I  picked 
up  a. bit  of  cloth  and  a  piece  of  a  bridle."  He  had  got  excel- 
lent introductions  from  Lord  Holland  and  Sir  James  Mack- 
intosh for  Paris ;  where  he  accordingly  saw  a  number  of 
important  people,  and  a  good  deal  of  Parisian  society.  But 
he  records  little  memorable  even  for  that  day,  and  nothing 
that  it  would  be  worth  while  to  repeat  now.  All  the  po- 
litical feeling  seems  to  have  been  concentrated  into  hatred 
of  the  Bourbons  and  the  English,  and  utter  uncertainty  as 
to  what  would  be  the  next  act  of  France's  protracted  tra- 
gedy. In  the  long  voyage  from  Boulogne  to  Dover,  "  The 
sea  and  the  wind  became  both  very  high,  particularly  the 
former  ;  a  worse  and  more  dangerous  sea  than  is  often  seen 
in  the  open  ocean,  from  the  shortness  and  irregularity  of 
the  swell."  He  finishes  by  saying  that  he  had  examined 
all  the  wonders  of  Dover,  and  "I have  admired  the  modest 
and  domestic  look  of  the  women — eaten  roast  beef,  apple 


HIS   PROFESSIONAL   MERITS.    .  189 

pie,  and  mutton  chops — drank  beer  and  port  wine — and 
felt  myself  taking  very  kindly  to  all  my  old  British  habits 
and  prejudices.  The  best  use  of  going  abroad,  I  take  it,- is 
to  make  one  fond  of  home ;  a  fondness  on  which  virtue  and 
happiness  are  both  most  securely  built;  and  which  one  who 
does  not  leave  home  too  early,  can  scarcely  fail  to  increase 
by  such  an  experiment.  Something  is  learnt  too,  I  sup- 
pose, though  probably  of  no  great  value.  And  things  are 
pleasant  to  recollect,  and  to  talk  of  at  a  distance,  which 
were  wearisome  enough  when  they  occurred.  It  was  solely 
to  enable  me  to  recollect  them,  that  I  have  put  down  this 
indistinct  notice  of  them  all." 

A  change  took  place  in  the  beginning  of  next  year,  in 
the  administration  of  justice  in  Scotland,  which  it  was  fore- 
seen would  be  of  importance  to  Jeffrey.  It  consisted  of 
the  introduction  of  juries  for  the  trial  of  facts  in  civil 
causes,  which  was  first  practised  on  the  22d  of  January, 
1816.  There  were  no  juries  here  before  this  except  in 
Exchequer,  and  in  criminal  prosecutions.  The  practice  in 
these  courts  was  not  extensive ;  but  such  as  it  was,  he  had 
had  the  best  of  it,  at  least  before  the  criminal  tribunal,  for 
several  years  ;  and  his  success  there  suggested  him  as  the 
counsel  likely  to  be  the  most  successful  gleaner  in  the  new 
field.  This  expectation  was  not  disappointed.  He  in- 
stantly took  up  one  side  of  almost  every  trial  in  what  was 
then  called  the  Jury  Court,  as  if  it  had  been  a  sort  of 
right,  and  held  this  position  as  long  as  he  was  at  the  bar. 
"Tell  me  (says  Homer,  2d  June,  1815)  what  is  doing,  or 
meant  to  be  done,  about  your  Jury  Court.  That  will  be 
a  great  field  for  you.  The  success  of  the  new  institution 
must,  in  a  very  great  measure,  depend  on  the  exertions 
made  by  the  bar."  "And  with  so  much  of  genius  and 
philosophy  as  adorn  the  Parliament  House  at  present,  it 
will  be  imputable  to  your  indolence  only  if  you  do  not  give 
the  thing  a  right  impulse  at  first,"  &c. 

Jeffrey  was  well  fitted  for  the  new  sphere  in  every  re- 


100  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

spect,  though  not  perhaps  without  some  deductions.  His 
law,  which  was  now  recognised  as  sufficient  for  the  deepest 
discussions  before  the  judges,  was  far  more  than  sufficient 
for  any  emergency  likely  to  occur  in  a  court,  which,  instead 
of  getting  whole  causes  to  dispose  of,  had  only  to  investi- 
gate certain  detached  matters  of  fact  specified  in  previous- 
ly adjusted  issues.  He  had  as  great  a  familiarity  with  the 
rules  and  the  philosophy  of  evidence  as  any  one  either  at 
the  bar  or  on  the  bench.  Caution  and  distrust  made  him 
a  safe  adviser  of  his  client ;  while  no  flaw  in  the  case  or 
in  the  reasoning  of  his  adversary  could  escape  his  acute- 
ness.  Though  superior  to  the  ludicrous  and  miserable 
•weakness,  proceeding  generally  from  professional  selfish- 
ness, which  drives  some  counsel  to  identify  themselves  with 
every  client  who  employs  them,  and  to  fancy  that  truth 
and  justice  are  always  on  their  side,  a  sense  of  duty,  and 
a  natural  energy  of  temperament,  excited  him  to  as  much 
zeal  as  an  honourable  advocate  ought  to  feel  or  to  profess. 
Rarely  misled  by  the  temptation  of  a  merely  temporary 
triumph,  his  general  management  was  judicious  and  pros- 
pective. In  sagacity  he  had  no  superior.  It  was  his  pe- 
culiar quality.  Through  the  usual  dishonesty,  mis-informa- 
tion, and  prejudices,  by  which  every  advocate  is  liable  to 
be  misled,  he  felt,  and  could  predict,  what,  either  of  prin- 
ciple or  of  assertion,  would  ultimately  stand  or  would  ulti- 
mately fail.  Thus  seeing,  from  the  outset  of  the  voyage, 
all  the  rocks  and  shoals  on  which  the  ship  was  likely  to 
strike,  and  all  the  gales  that  might  favour  or  obstruct  it 
— all  the  anchors  that  would  hold,  and  all  the  harbours  of 
refuge  into  which  it  might  be  run,  his  steerage  was  that 
of  a  first-rate  legal  pilot.  He  scented  what  would  turn  out 
nonsense  or  falsehood  a  great  way  off,  and  thus  was  the 
safest  of  all  general  advisers.  It  was  not  exactly  acute- 
ness  or'talent ;  it  was  a  faculty  which  these  qualities  often 
cbstruct.  Sagacity — or,  at  least,  the  sort  of  sagacity 
which  I  mean  to  describe  as  belonging  to  him — consists 


HIS   PROFESSIONAL   MERITS.  191 

principally  in  the  power  of  taking  large  and  calm  surveys, 
•with  a  view  to  detect  strong  or  weak  points.  A  person 
who,  knowing  him,  had  never  seen  him  at  this  work,  might 
have  doubted  his  being  effective  with  juries.  He  might 
have  feared  a  manner  still  somewhat  artificial,  and  a  mind 
addicted  to  more  refined  reasoning  than  plain  men  might 
relish.  Some  of  these  misgivings  would  not  have  been 
unreasonable.  There  was,  in  truth,  a  want  of  plainness, 
directness,  and  shortness.  But  it  adds  greatly  to  the 
merit  of  his  success,  that  he  triumphed  over  even  these 
defects.  -An  invaluable  memory  for  details  enabled  'him 
to  array  and  to  compare  any  circumstances,  however  nu- 
merous or  complicated;*  and  for  whatever  difficulty  talent 
was  required,  he  had  it  in  every  variety  at  command. 
Revelling  in  the  exuberance  of  his  powers,  he  sometimes 
put  the  matter  in  too  many  lights ;  but  he  never  failed  to 
put  it  in  some,  or  in  one,  from  which  no  rusticity  could 
escape.  The  plausibility  with  which  his  own  sophistry  was 
veiled,  was  only  equalled  by  the  skill  with  which  he  ex- 
posed that  of  his  opponent.  If  it  was  a  case  where  humour 
was  convenient,  it  gushed  readily  from  a  mind  habitually 
practised  in  ingenious  combination  of  ideas  and  resem- 
blances, and  so  brilliant  in  illustration,  that  Southey  thought 
this  the  peculiarity  of  his  intellect.  Was  a  grave  or  a 
lofty  train  of  thought  or  of  sentiment  proper,  who  could 
rise  to  it  more  nobly  than  one  who  had  only  to  yield  to  his 
own  natural  feelings  ?  But  there  was  another  influence 
around  him  more  honourable  than  any  that  mere  talent 
could  confer.  The  people  were  proud  of  the  Review,  of 
which  they  were  aware  that  he  was  the  spirit ;  and  they 
knew  that  there  was  no  scheme  for  their  elevation  which 

*  He  had  a  fancy,  or  said  that  he  had  it,  that  though  he  went  to  bed 
with  his  head  stuffed  and  confused  with  the  names,  and  dates,  and  other 
details  of  various  causes,  they  were  all  in  order  in  the  morning;  which 
he  accounted  for  by  saying,  that  during  sleep  "  they  all  crystallized  round 
their  proper  centres." 


192  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

did  not  acknowledge  him  for  its  leader,  or  its  most  intelli- 
gent champion.  Then  they  had  always  heard  of  him  ag 
amiable  and  generous;  and  when  they  saw  him,  and  he 
began  to  do  business  with  them,  either,  gravely  or  playfully, 
they  were  the  more  disposed  to  admire  the  counsel  from 
their  personal  love  of  the  man. 

I  wish  I  could  give  some  examples  of  his  professional 
style.  But  it  is  impossible.  Such  displays  can  never  be 
appreciated,  or  indeed  understood,  unless  where  the  whole 
circumstances  are  fully  reported  ;•  and  even  then  they  are 
of  no  value  unless  they  be  connected  with  public  events. 
The  life  of  an  advocate  is  a  life  spent  in  the  midst  of  occur- 
rences of  the  deepest  interest  to  parties ;  but  which,  to 
others,  vanishes  with  the  passing  hour.  There  is  not  a 
day  in  which  talents  are  not  exhibited  in  courts  of  justice 
equal  to  the  highest  that  can  operate  in  the  most  difficult 
employments  in  which  the  human  mind  can  be  engaged. 
The  -exercise  of  these  talents  saves  or  ruins  families.  It 
inflames  able  men  with  the  fire  of  professional  ambition. 
It  agitates  spectators  according  to  various  sympathies.  If 
a  great  public  principle  or  result  be  involved,  such  as  his- 
tory must  transmit  to  posterity,  what  occurs  keeps  its 
interest ;  not  as  a  judicial  proceeding,  but  as  a  political 
event.  If  only  private  concerns  be  at  issue,  the  whole 
affair,  though  marked  by  admirable  displays  of  ability,  is 
almost  as  little  cared  for  after  it  is  over,  as  the  last  the- 
atrical exhibition  of  a  great  actor.  What  preserves  the 
forensic  glory  of  Thomas  Erskine,  except  the  State  trials, 
which  gave  subjects  of  permanent  dignity  to  his  genius, 
and  which,  thus  sustained,  his  genius  made  immortal  ?  Few 
such  occasions  occur  even,  in  England,  and  far  fewer  in 
Scotland ; — during  Jeffrey's  time,  indeed,  none  ;  and  those 
that  possessed  some  temporary  local  importance  are  so  im- 
perfectly reported,  that  the  published  accounts  would  rather 
mislead  than  assist  us  in  estimating  his  powers  or  his  style. 

The  first  application^  of  juries  to  civil  justice  was  hi- 


POLITICAL    WRITINGS,  193 

trusted  to  the  Right  Hon.  William  Adam,  of  Blair- 
Adam,  in  Kinross-shire,  who  was  put  at  the  head  of  the 
new  court.  This  led  to  an  agreeable  intercourse  between 
him  and  Jeffrey.  Jeffrey  had  kept  up  his  Speculative 
Society  friendship  with  William  Adam,  the  son ;  but  he 
now  gained  the  esteem  of  the  whole  family ;  and  speaks, 
in  many  of  his  letters,  of  his  delightful  visits  to  them,  in 
all  their  branches,  both  at  Blair-Adam  and  at  their  villa 
at  Richmond. 

In  1816,  he  wrote  the  article  Beauty  for  the  Encyclo- 
pedia Britannica.  Of  all  the  treatises  that  have  been 
published  on  the  theory  of  taste,  it  is  the  most  complete 
in  its  philosophy,  and  the  most  delightful  in  its  writing ; 
and  it  is  as  sound  as  the  subject  admits  of. 

After  the  peace,  by  delivering  the  people  from  foreign 
alarm,  had  given  them  leisure  to  look  into  their  domestic 
condition,  the  various  questions  of  reform  that  have  ever 
since  engrossed  their  attention  began  successively  to  arise. 
Consistently  with  the  principles  and  objects  it  had  always 
adhered  to,  the  Review  engaged,  with  its  usual  animation, 
in  all  these  discussions.  But  Jeffrey,  though  as  enthusias- 
tic a  reformer  as  was  consistent  with  prudence,  made  few 
personal  contributions  in  this  form  to  the  cause.  Public 
affairs,  indeed,  were  generally  the  smallest  of  his  depart- 
ments, though  in  none,  when  he  ventured  into  it,  was  his 
wisdom  more  conspicuous ;  but  after  this  he  cultivated 
the  subject  even  more  sparingly  than  he  used  to  do.  Be- 
tween 1815  and  1820,  inclusive,  he  seems  to  have  only 
written  one  article  directly  on  British  politics.  Nobody 
who  lived  in  1819  and  1820  can  have  .forgotten  the  fright- 
ful condition  of  large  portions  of  the  population ;  when 
demagogues  aggravated  the  real  miseries  of  want,  by 
ascribing  it  to  wilful  human  causes.  It  was  the  most 
horrid  period  since  the  days  of  1793.  Jeffrey's  humanity 
would  not  allow  him  to  avoid  giving  a  few  words  of  advice 
on  such  a  crisis ;  and  in  October,  1819,  he  wrote  a  short 
is"  ir 


194  LIJTB   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

but  excellent  article  on  the  state  of  the  nation,  (No.  64, 
art.  2,)  containing  an  exposition  to  all  parties  of  their 
errors,  their  duties,  and  their  danger.  His  only  other 
articles  connected  with  even  general  politics  were  one  on 
De  Stael's  French  Revolution,  (September,  1818,)  and  one 
(in  May,  1820)  on  the  jealousies  between  America  and 
Britain.  This  last  was  a  subject  to  which  he  was  never 
indifferent.  He  had  constantly  endeavoured  to  remove 
the  irritations  which  made  these  two  kindred  nations  think 
so  uncharitably  and  so  absurdly  of  each  other.  This  article 
contains  an  examination  of  the  grounds  on  which  this  want 
of  candour  is  charged  by  the  author  of  the  book  he  is 
criticising  as  solely  on  the  side  of  the  British,  and  an 
earnest  appeal  to  the  good  sense  of  both  communities.  He 
has  reprinted  this  admirable  paper  in  his  Selected  Contri- 
butions, with  this  note,  (v.  4,  p.  167 :)  "  There  is  no  one 
feeling — having  public  concerns  for  its  object — with  which 
I  have  been  so  long  and  so  deeply  impressed,  as  that  of 
the  vast  importance  of  our  maintaining  friendly,  and  even 
cordial  relations,  with  the  free,  powerful,  moral,  and  in- 
dustrious States  of  America — a  condition  upon  which  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  not  only  our  own  freedom  and 
prosperity,  but  that  of  the  better  part  of  the  world,  will 
ultimately  be  found  to  be  more  and  more  dependent.  I 
give  the  first  place,  therefore,  in  this  concluding  division 
of  the  work,  to  an  earnest  and  somewhat  importunate  ex- 
hortation to  this  effect,  which,  I  believe,  produced  some 
impression  at  the  time,  and  I  trust  may  still  help  forward 
the  good  end  to  which  it  was  directed." 

With  these  exceptions,  his  whole  contributions  during 
these  six  years  were  of  a  literary  character.  And  it  is 
impossible  to  read  their  mere  titles  without  being  struck 
with  the  view  which  they  exhibit  of  mental  richness  and 
activity.  He  was  in  the  full  career  of  a  professional  prac- 
tice that  occupied  the  greatest  portion  of  his  whole  time, 
and  during  about  eight  months,  yearly,  could  not  be  got 


SCOTCH    REFORMS.  195 

through  without  the  exclusive  use  of  ten  or  even  twelve 
hours  a  day ;  besides  which,  those  who  only  saw  him,  in 
society,  and  knew  not  how  the  fragments  of  a  diligent 
man's  time  may  be  gathered  up,  might  suppose  that  he 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  dine  and  to  talk.  Nevertheless, 
besides  the  three  articles  just  mentioned,  he  wrote,  during 
this  period,  about  thirty-six  more,  chiefly  on  literature, 
biography,  and  general  history. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  any  explanation  of  the 
nature  of  the  constitutional  and  economical  reforms  which 
the  Whig  party  in  Scotland  had  been  long  recommending; 
and  which,  now  that  the  people  had  awakened,  and  the  war 
could  no  longer  be  made  the  apology  for  adhering  to  every 
abuse,  they  pressed  with  greater  confidence  than  ever.  It 
is  sufficient  to  state  the  facts,  that  the*  great  majority  of 
the  nation  deemed  these  reforms  indispensable ;  and  that 
they  have  since  been  all  sanctioned  by  Parliament.  The 
best  leaders  of  the  Scotch  Whig  party  were  still  members 
of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates  ;  who,  contrary  to  their  inte- 
rests, had  adhered  to  their  principles  with  a  constancy  most 
honourable  to  themselves,  and,  I  fear,  with  too  few  ex- 
amples at  other  bars.  It  was  to  the  Parliament  House 
that  the  country  looked  for  guidance  ;  and  to  no  individual 
so  much  as  to  Jeffrey.  He  justified  their  confidence  by 
his  zeal,  intelligence,  and  caution.  Seeing  the  course  that 
the  current  was  taking,  and  the  certainty  of  its  being  at 
last  irresistible,  he  thought  the  slowness  of  its  motion, 
which  gave  more  time  for  knowledge,  no  misfortune ;  and 
therefore  seldom  originated  active  proceedings.  But,  so 
as  his  uniform  recommendation  of  uniting  reasonableness 
of  object  with  temperance  of  means,  was  acceded  to,  he 
never  shrank  from  coming  forward  when  required ;  and, 
consequently,  was  always  in  the  van.  The  battles  he  had 
to  fight,  like  most  of  the  common  battles  of  party  after 
they  are  over,  may  seem  insignificant  now.  But  they  were 
of  very  serious  importance  at  the  *,ime,  insomuch  that  there 


196  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

are  many  who  will  consider  a  failure  to  explain  them  as 
depriving  Jeffrey  of  much  of  his  public  merit.  But  I  can- 
not think  that  any  exposition  of  their  detail  is  necessary, 
or  that  reasonable  curiosity  may  not  be  satisfied  by  a 
general  reference  to  transactions  which,  even  at  the  dis- 
tance of  thirty  years,  there  is  some  pain  in  remembering. 
I  shall  therefore  only  state,  that  as  it  was  clear  that  the 
battle  of  internal  reform  had  begun,  there  was  no  place 
where  this  truth  was  perceived  with  greater  horror  than  at 
Edinburgh.  The  reason  of  this  was  that  Edinburgh  was 
the  great  seat  of  the  influence  of  government  in  Scotland. 
The  most  numerous,  and  the  highest  class  of  political  com- 
petitors was  there,  and  there  was  more  patronage  to  fight 
for.  Complaint  had  been  so  habitually  crushed,  that  the 
defenders  of  the  old  system  considered  every  effort  towards 
independence  as  rebellion ;  while  those  who  made  these 
efforts  treated  opposition  to  them  as  tyranny.  Neither  of 
these  feelings  was  at  all  unnatural,  in  the  position  of  the 
parties.  But  the  conflict  was  carried  on  with  very  differ- 
ent arms ;  which  I  shall  not  describe  or  contrast.  The 
Whigs  made  no  secret  that  their  object  was  to  emancipate 
Scotland.  They  were  opposed  with  great  bitterness,  and 
with  unhandsome  weapons.  These  local  animosities  lasted 
some  years,  and  brought  Jeffrey  and  his  associates  into 
constant  collision  with  their  opponents.  During  those 
protracted  and  irritating  proceedings,  his  judgment  and 
his  eloquence  were  often  required,  and  nearly  as  often  ex- 
erted ;  to  the  effect  of  greatly  animating  the  spirits  and 
advancing  the  cause  of  his  party  all  over  the  country.  I 
will  not  gain  him  praise  by  any  more  particular  disclosure 
of  scenes  which  I  wish  I  could  forget,  and  which  I  am  per- 
suaded that  others  regret.  But  I  could  convey  no  idea  of 
his  exertions  in  what  he  thought  the  right  public  cause 
without  mentioning  generally  some  of  his  appearances  as 
they  arose. 

Tt  is  impossible  to  do  so,  or  indeed  to  explain  almost  any 


SIR   JAMES   CRAIG.  197 

of  the  local  proceedings  of  bis  public  life,  without  mention- 
ing Sir  James  Craig,  who  was  active  in  them  all.  He  died 
at  bis  seat  of  Riccarton,  on  the  6th  March,  1850;  in  his 
eighty-fifth  year.  Prompt,  able,  and  vigorous ;  with  a  deci- 
sive arid  resolute  manner ;  bis  whole  life  was  spent  in  fear- 
less usefulness.  He  was  so  prominent  in  our  worst  times, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  Thomas  Muir  could  be 
transported,  and  James  Gibson  (his  original  name)  not  be 
even  tried.  Boldness,  talent,  and  devotion  to  the  appa- 
rently desperate  cause  of  Scottish  freedom,  and  even  his 
personal  strength  and  stateliness,  made  him  the  terror  and 
hatred  of  some ;  while  the  same  qualities,  exercised  with- 
out the  relaxation  of  almost  a  single  day,  and  given  with- 
out regard  to  trouble,  risk,  or  expense,  to  every  object 
connected  with  our  liberation,  made  him  the  idol  of  others. 
No  private  individual,  out  of  Parliament,  never  publishing, 
and  rarely  speaking,  and  largely  occupied  with  private 
business,  did  so  much,  throughout  all  its  progress,  to  up- 
hold the  popular  cause.  There  could  be  no  ebb  or  flow  of 
Whiggism  in  Scotland,  but  this  active  and  ardent  spirit 
was  sure  to  be  in  the  midst  of  it.  When  public  discussion 
was  necessary,  good  sense  generally  withdrew  him  from 
the  conspicuous  positions ;  but  those  who  occupied  them 
could  best  tell  what  they  owed  to  his  previous  management. 
Being  the  general  patron  of  all  the  needy  patriots  in  Scot- 
land, to  whom  he  had  long  been  predicting  brighter  days, 
he  sought  for  places  for  them  far  oftener  than  he  liked ; 
but  for  himself  be  was  spotless.  He  refused  every  thing, 
both  when  the  Whigs  were  in  office  in  1805,  and  in  1830 ; 
and,  except  his  baronetcy  in  1832, 1  am  not  aware  that  any 
benefits  depending  on  politics  ever  accrued,  through  him, 
either  to  himself  or  to  any  member  of  his  family.  Besides 
being  relied  upon  by  political  allies,  he  had  the  personal 
confidence  and  esteem  of  many  to  whom  his  politics  were 
odious.  H,e  owed  this  to  his  general  ability  in  b'usiness, 
and  to  the  warmth  of  his  heart.  For,  with  all  his  party 

17* 


198  LIFE    OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

zeal,  he  was  a  milky-blooded  man.  No  one  could  doubt 
this  who  was  ever  with  him  in  his  family.  Seeing  Sir 
James*  Craig  in  his  fields,  or  among  his  villagers,  or  by  his 
fireside,  was  one  of  the  sights  that  show  how,  in  right  na- 
tures, the  kind  affections  can  survive  public  contention. 
Craig's  very  name  suggested  the  idea  of  Ephesus  and  con- 
flict ;  yet  no  contented  man,  wearing  his  days  away  in  the 
tranquillity  of  rural  life,  could  be  more  amiable.  This  was 
one  of  the  cases  which  makes  the  simple  comprehend  how 
the  fierce  opposition  of  some  public  men  can  subsist  with 
perfect  candour  and  good-will  before  each  attack  begins, 
and  the  instant  after  it  ends ;  so  that  while  the  world  sees 
nothing  but  the  foaming  of  the  cataract,  and  imagines  that 
these  men  are  all  rapids,  the  truth  is,  that  their  private 
lives  flow  away  sweetly  and  silently.  Craig  had  almost  a 
veneration  for  Jeffrey,  and  Jeffrey  had  a  high  esteem  of 
him.  Not  that  he. could  always  sympathize  with  Sir  James's 
zeal ;  or  that  he  did  not  sometimes  fret  under  his  activity ; 
or,  especially  when  Lord  Advocate,  that  he  had  not  occa- 
sionally to  check  his  interference.  But  these  exceptions 
left  their  general  relation  unimpaired,  and  whenever  Jef- 
frey appeared  publicly  in  any  Scotch  movement,  it  might 
be  deemed  nearly  certain  that  he  and  Craig  were  in  con- 
cert. » 

On  the  24th  of  February,  1816,  a  public  meeting  was 
held  in  Edinburgh,  in  favour  of  the  abolition  of  the  income- 
tax.  Though  not  a  party  meeting,  the  bad  example  of  any 
political  meeting  whatever  excited  considerable  alarm. 
Jeffrey  made  the  principal  speech,  and  moved  certain  reso- 
lutions, which  James  Moncrieff  seconded,  and  they  were 
carried. 

On  the  5th  of  March,  1817,  in  the  paltry  case  of  Mac- 
laren  and  Baird,  (State  Trials,  vol.  xxxiii.,)  who  were  that 
day  convicted  of  sedition,  he  made  the  best  speech  that  has 
eve.r  yet  been  made  in  a  Scotch  court  in  defence  of  a  pri- 
soner accused  of  that  crime. 


COLERIDGE — CHALMERS.  199 

The  "Biographical  Sketches  of  my  Literary  Life  and 
Opinions,"  by  Mr.  Coleridge,  published  that  year,  con- 
tained a  very  unhandsome  personal  attack  on  him,  founded 
upon  most  inaccurate  statements  of  what  had  passed  at  a 
visit  paid  by  him  to  Mr.  Southey,  in  1810,  at  which  Mr. 
Coleridge  was  present.  Jeffrey  wrote  a  review  of  this  work, 
(No.  56,  article  10,  August,  1817,)  to  which  he  added  a  long 
note,  giving  his  version  of  this  affair,  and  defending  his 
general  literary  treatment  of  the  Lake  school.  This  de- 
fence was  quite  proper  at  the  time  ;  but  the  personal  matter 
has  now  become  insignificant.  The  parties  are  all  dead ; 
and  if  any  living  man  can  believe  that  Jeffrey  was  capable 
of  behaving  with  meanness  and  cruelty,  that  person  may 
read  this  note,  and  then  adhere  to  his  belief  if  he  can. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  first  became  acquainted 
with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Chalmers,  who  began  to  contribute  ex- 
cellent articles  to  the  Review.  There  was  a  strong  mutual 
affection  and  admiration,  each  appreciating  the  virtues  and 
understanding  the  genius  of  the  other.  There  were  few, 
unconnected  with  him  in  religious  objects,  whom  Chalmers 
loved  more  ;  and  Jeffrey  always  thought  him  a  great  moral 
philosopher,  an'enthusiastic  philanthropist,  and  the  noblest 
orator  of  the  age. 

In  February,  1818,  he  did  what  he  never  did  before  or 
since.  He  stuck  a  speech.  John  Kemble  had  taken  his 
leave  of  our  stage,  and  before  quitting  Edinburgh,  about 
sixty  or  seventy  of  his  admirers  gave  him  a  dinner  and  a 
snuff-box.  Jeffrey  was  put  into  the  chair,  and  had  to  make 
the  address  previous  to  the  presentation.  He  began  very 
promisingly,  but  got  confused,  and  amazed  both  himself 
and  everybody  else,  by  actually  sitting  down,  and  leaving 
the  speech  unfinished  ;  and,  until  reminded  of  that  part  of 
his  duty,  not  even  thrusting  the  box  into  the  hand  of  the 
intended  receiver.  He  afterward  told  me  the  reason  of 
this.  He  had  not  premeditated  the  scene,  and  thought  he 
had  nothing  to  do  except  in  the  name  of  the  company  to 


200  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

give  the  box.  But  as  soon  as  he  rose  to  do  this,  Kemble, 
\vho  was  beside  him,  rose  also,  and  with  most  formidable 
dignity.  This  forced  Jeffrey  to  look  up  to  his  man  ;  when 
he  found  himself  annihilated  by  the  tall  tragic  god ;  who 
sank  him  to  the  earth  at  every  compliment,  by  obeisances 
of  overwhelming  grace  and  stateliness.  If  the  chairman 
had  anticipated  his  position,  or  recovered  from  his  first  con- 
fusion, his  mind  and  words  could  easily  have  subdued  even 
Kemble. 

About  this  period  Edinburgh  was  clouded  by  several  sad 
deaths. 

Homer  died  on  the  17th  of  April,  1817.  His  memoirs 
have  since  been  published  by  his  brother  Leonard,  to  whom, 
both  on  his  own  account  and  because  it  tended  to  recall 
the  deceased,  Jeffrey  transferred  great  affection.  Mr 
Leonard  Horner  mentions  in  his  preface,  that,  instead  ot 
making  out  this  interesting  life  himself,  he  had  put  the 
papers  into  the  hands  of  an  "eminent  person,  who,  by  his 
early  and  uninterrupted  intimacy  with  my  brother,  his  va- 
ried accomplishments,  and  his  known  powers  as  a  writer, 
was  peculiarly  fitted  to  be  my  brother's  biographer."  This 
person  was  Jeffrey,  who  delayed  the  task  so  long  that  he 
was  obliged  at  last  to  give  it  up. 

Henry  Erskine  died  on  the  8th  of  October  of  that  year. 
Jeffrey  thought  so  highly  of  him,  that  he  wrote  an  account 
of  him,  which  he  sent,  as  he  once  or  twice  did  other  slight 
articles,  to  the  Scots  Magazine,  then  conducted  by  his 
friend  Morehead,  and  afterward  gave  it  a  place  in  the  last 
volume  of  his  Selected  Contributions.  It  is  short,  but  af- 
fectionate and  just. 

Erskine  disappeared  in  old  age.  But  Dr.  John  Gordon, 
physician,  who  died  in  June,  1818,  was  taken  from  us  in 
the  very  flower  of  his  manhood.  He  was  one  of  the  many 
young  men  whose  talents  the  late  Dr.  John  Thomson  had 
the  merit  of  discovering  and  encouraging.  A  taste  for 
science  was  combined  in  him  with  well-directed  industry, 


DEATH   OF   DISTINGUISHED    MEN.  201 

and  with  a  look  and  manner  inexpressibly  pleasing.  He 
was  rising  rapidly  to  the  best  medical  practice,  and  the 
success  of  his  private  lectures  on  physiology  justified  our 
proudest  hopes  for  the  University.  His  unexpected  loss 
made  a  momentary  pause  in  our  sorrow  for  Homer.  Jef- 
frey had  a  genuine  affection  for  him ;  a  feeling,  however, 
in  which  the  whole  community  shared.  He  was  ill  only  a 
few  days ;  and  on  the  last  day  he  was  ever  out,  he  sat  in 
an  arbour  in  the  garden  of  Craigcrook.  His  friend,  Dr. 
Daniel  Ellis,  the  author  of  several  valuable  works  on  vege- 
table physiology,  published  a  memoir  of  him.  The  beau- 
tiful account  of  his  personal  character  and  demeanour  was 
supplied  by  Jeffrey.  The  "  graceful  frankness,  and  gay 
sincerity ',"  are  very  descriptive  of  the  manner. 

Lord  Webb  Seymour,  after  a  long  course  of  feeble  health, 
passed  away  on  the  19th  of  April,  1819. 

His  great  friend  John  Playfair,  for  whom  indeed  prin- 
cipally he  had  fixed  himself  in  Edinburgh,  followed  him 
in  three  months.  His  death  was  on  the  19th  of  July, 
1819.  Jeffrey  has  left  a  description  of  this  delightful  phi- 
losopher als6  ;  so  true  and  so  discriminating,  that  it  would 
be  presumptuous  in  any  one  else  to  touch  the  portrait. 
That  part  of  the  funeral  which  takes  place  within  the  house 
was  a  spectacle  never  to  be  forgotten ;  attended  as  it  was 
by  the  most  eminent  men  in  this  place,  among  whom  were 
Dugald  Stewart,  Dr.  James  Gregory,  Mr.  Henry  Macken- 
zie, the  Rev.  Archibald  Alison,  Dr.  Thomas  Brown.  Mr. 
Thomas  Thomson,  Mr.  Jeffrey,  and  others  of  that  order, 
the  friends  and  old  associates  of  the  deceased,  and  elevated 
by  the  noblest  of  prayers  by  Sir  Harry. 

To  those  who  knew  Edinburgh,  I  need  not  say  what  it 
suffered  by  the  loss  of  these  five  men.  They  were  the  de- 
light and  the  pride  of  the  place. 

Jeffrey  felt  equally  honoured  by  the  friendship  of  another 
eminent  person,  whose  regard  for  him  was  the  chief  induce- 
ment to  his  occasionally  visiting  this  place,-^-James  Watt, 


202  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

the  improver  of  the  steam  engine.  lie  died  on  the  25th 
of  August,  1819.  And,  on  the  4th  of  September,  there 
appeared  in  the  Scotsman  newspaper,  that  striking  de- 
lineation of  the  man,  and  what  he  had  done,  by  Jeffrey, 
which  he  has  since  published  at  the  end  of  his  Contribu- 
tions. 

It  was  reported  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Thomas  Moore 
had  fallen  under  some  severe  pecuniary  misfortune,  on  which 
Jeffrey  -wrote  as  follows  to  Mr.  Rogers  : — 

«  Edinburgh,  30th  July,  1819  :— My  dear  Sir,  I  have 
been  very  much  shocked  and  distressed  by  observing  in 
the  newspapers  the  great  pecuniary  calamity  which  has 
fallen  on  our  excellent  friend  Moore  ;  and  not  being  able 
to  get  any  distinct  information,  either  as  to  its  extent,  or 
its  probable  consequences,  from  anybody  here,  I  have 
thought  it  best  to  relieve  my  anxiety  by  applying  to  yon, 
whose  kind  concern  in  him  must  have  made  you  acquainted 
with  all  the  particulars,  and  willing,  I  hope,  to  satisfy  the 
inquiries  of  one  who  sincerely  shows  interest  in  his  con- 
cerns. I  do  not  know,  however,  that  I  should  have 
troubled  you  merely  to  answer  any  useless  inquiry.  But 
in  wishing  to  know  whether  any  steps  have  been  taken  to 
mitigate  this  disaster,  I  am  desirous  of  knowing,  also, 
whether  I  can  be  of  any  use  on  the  occasion.  I  have,  un- 
fortunately, not  a  great  deal  of  money  to  spare.  But  if 
it  should  be  found  practicable  to  relieve  him  from  this  un- 
merited distress  by  any  contribution,  I  beg  leave  to  say 
I  should  think  it  an  honour  to  be  allowed  to  take  a  share 
in  it  to  the  extent  of  .£300,  or  £500,  and  that  I  could  ad- 
vance more  than  double  that  sum  over  and  above,  upon 
any  reasonable  security  of  ultimate  repayment,  however 
long  postponed.  I  am  quite  aware  of  the  difficulty  of  car- 
rying through  any  such  arrangement  with  a  man  of  Moore's 
high  feeling  and  character,  and  had  he  been  unmarried,  or 
without  children,  he  might  have  been  less  reluctantly  left 
to  the  guidance  and  support  of  that  character.  But  as  it 


LETTER,   TO    ROGERS.  203 

*•  % 

is,  I  think  his  friends  are  bound  to  make  an  effort  to  pre- 
vent such  lasting  and  extended  misery,  as,  from  all  I  have 
heard,  seems  now  to  be  impending.  And  in  hands  at  once 
so  kind  and  so  delicate  as  yours,  I  flatter  myself  that  this 
may  be  found  practicable.  I  need  not  add,  I  am  sure,  that 
I  am  most  anxious  that,  whether  ultimately  acted  upon  or 
not,  this  communication  should  never  be  mentioned  to 
Moore  himself.  If  you  please,>you  may  tell  him  that  I 
have  been  deeply  distressed  by  his  misfortunes,  and  should 
be  most  happy  to  do  him  any  service.  But  as  I  have 
no  right  to  speak  to  him  of  money,  I  do  not  think  he 
should  know  that  I  have  spoken  of  it  to  you.  If  my  offer 
is  accepted,  I  shall  consider  you  and  not  him  as  the  ac- 
ceptor. And  he  ought  not  to  be  burdened  with  the  know- 
ledge of  any  other  benefactor. 

"  Is  there  no  chance  of  seeing  you  in  Scotland  again  ? 
We  have  had  a  sad  loss  in  Playfair,  and  which  is  quite 
irreparable  to  the  society  here.  It  is  a  comfort  to  think 
\ve  cannot  possibly  have  s-uch  another.  We  had  a  great 
fright  about  Scott,  but  fortunately  he  is  quite  recovered. 
I  have  a  sort  of  project  of  running  over  to  Paris  again  this 
autumn.  If  I  had  a  chance  of  finding  you  in  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli,  I  should  not  hesitate  a  moment.  I  am  not  quite 
so  insensible  to  the  advantages  of  this  encounter  as  I  ap- 
peared to  be.  And  I  have  a  thousand  times  since  re- 
proached myself  for  having  made  so  little  use  of  them." 

A  commission  was  issued  in  summer,  1820,  for  the  trial 
of  certain  persons  in  Scotland  who  were  charged  with  high- 
treason.  Jeffrey,  (as  I  understand,)  from  that  professional 
charity  which  is  so  common  and  so  honourable  at  the  Scotch 
bar,  where  no  prisoner  has  ever  been  tried  without  counsel, 
went  to  Stirling  and  took  charge  of  some  of  the  defences. 
He  tells  Mrs.  Morehead,  (July,  1820,)  "  I  have  made  two 
long  speeches,  and  have  not  spared  or  disgraced  myself; 
though  success  was  scarcely  possible."  Th«  thing  that 
distinguished  the  proceedings  in  so  far  as  he  personally 


204  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

v 

was  concerned,  was,  that  for  the  only  occasion  in  his  whole 
practice,  he  got  into  bad  terms  with  a  professional  brother. 
This  brother  was  a  Serjeant,  who  had  been  sent  from  Eng- 
land to  keep  us  all  right  in  the  mysteries  of  English  trea- 
son law.  I  believe  he  was  a  very  good  man,  and  his  being 
charged  with  such  a  duty  seems  to  show  that  he  was  a  re- 
spectable counsel.  But  some  of  those  who  were  present 
report  that  he  was  plainly  prepossessed  with  very  con- 
temptuous ideas  of  every  thing  Scotch,  but  especially  of 
the  lawyers.  He  had  no  notion  what  Jeffrey  was,  and  had 
probably  never  heard  either  of  him  or  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review.  His  disdain  was  returned  without  ceremony.  It 
is  likely  that  there  were  faults  on  both  sides.  But  the 
fact  is, -that  they  got  on  very  ill,  and  were  on  the  very 
edge  of  personal  quarrel. 

It  was  in  1820  that  he  had  the  comfort  of  finding  Miss 
Joanna  Baillie  reconciled  to  him.  His  criticisms  of  her 
plays,  though  able,  and  even  complimentary,  but  not  with- 
out discrimination,  gave  not  unnatural  offence  when  they 
first  appeared,  (1803,)  from  something  of  apparent  flip- 
pancy, or  at  least  of  what  a  lady  might  suppose  to  be  so, 
in  their  style,  and  she  long  declined  being  introduced 
to  him.  They  met,  however,  in  Edinburgh  this  autumn, 
with  the  almost  invariable  result  on  those  who  had  a  preju- 
dice against  him,  of  permanent  respect  and  esteem.  He, 
ever  after  making  her  acquaintance,  continued  her  steady 
friend,  and  seldom  was  in  London  without  going  to  Hamp- 
stead  to  see  her.  "  We  went  out  to  Joanna  Baillie  yester- 
day, and  found  her  delightfully  cheerful,  kind,  and  simple, 
without  the  least  trait  of  the  tragic  muse  about  her." — (To 
me,  1st  April,  1838.)  « I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
been  twice  out  to  Hampstead  to  hunt  out  Joanna  Baillie, 
and  found  her  the  other  day,  as  fresh,  natural,  and  amiable 
as  ever,  and  as  little  like  a  tragic  muse.  Since  Mrs. 
Brougham's,  death,  I  do  not  know  so  nice  an  old  woman." 
— (To  Miss  Brown,  28th  April,  1840.)  "We  went  out  to 


THE   PANTHEON    MEETING.  205 

Hampstead,  and  paid  a  very  pleasant  visit  to  Joanna  Bail- 
lie,  who  is  marvellous  in  health  and  spirits,  and  youthful 
freshness  and  simplicity  of  feeling,  and  not  a  bit  blind, 
deaf,  or  torpid." — (To  Miss  Brown,  January,  1842.)  "  I 
had  a  very  kind  visit  from  Joanna  Baillie  to-day ;  looking 
beautiful,  and  without  a  touch  of  blindness,  deafness,  or 
languor,  and  now  in  her  eightieth  year." — (To  me,  22d 
February,  1842.)  «  That  nice  Joanna  Baillie  has  also  been 
in  my  neighbourhood  for  several  days,  and  is  the  prettiest, 
best  dressed,  kindest,  happiest,  and  most  entire  beauty  of 
fourscore  that  has  been  seen'  since  the  flood." — (February, 
1842.) 

Toward  the  close  of  this  year  a  public  meeting,  was  held 
in  Edinburgh,  which,  in  reference  to  the  state  of  Scotland 
at  that  time,  was  very  important,  and  is  not  yet  forgotten. 
It  is  known  as  "  The  Pantheon  Meeting,'  from  the  build- 
ing within  which  it  was  held.  It  was  called  in  order  to 
petition  the  crown  for  the  dismissal  of  the  ministry ;  and 
was  thus  not  merely  political,  but  directly  hostile  to  exist- 
ipg  power ;  being  the  first  open  and  respectable  assemblage 
that  had  been  convened  in  this  place,  for  su.ch  a  purpose, 
for  about  twenty-five  years.  It  was  meant,  and  was  re- 
ceived, as  a  criterion  of  the  strength  of  the  two  parties  of 
those  friendly,  and  those  opposed,  to  reform ;  and  there 
could  be  no  better  evidence  of  its  importance,  than  the  fury 
with  which  all  connected  with  it  were  assailed.  All  that  I 
have  to  do  with  it  is  in  reference  to  Jeffrey.  It  was  a  large 
and  respectable  assemblage,  held  on  the  19th  of  December, 
1820.  Moncrieff  presided.  The  excitement,  the  inexpe- 
rience in  the  art  of  managing  such  convocations,  and  the 
danger  of  language  as  violent  as  that  which  had  for  several 
days  been  directed  against  it,  made  it  at  first  a  very  hazard- 
ous experiment.  But  Jeffrey  rose,  and  all  fears  vanished. 
He  made  the  first,  and  a  very  moderate  speech ;  well  cal- 
culated for  popular  effect  certainly,  but  which  would  have 
done  most  men  honour  in  a  fastidious  parliament.  It  soon 

18 


206  LIFE -OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

made  the  meeting  take  the  proper  tone,  and  feel  tliat  its 
strength  lay  in  avoiding  the  extravagance  of  which  it  had 
been  predicted  that  it  would  be  guilty.  Accordingly,  after 
carrying  strong  resolutions,  with  only  two  dissentient 
voices,  the  proceedings  and  the  day  closed  in  peace.* 

The  first  official  honour  that  he  ever  received  was  now 
conferred  upon  him  by  the  students  of  the  College  of  Glas- 
gow. They  elected  him  their  Lord  Rector.  This  officer 
is  the  second  person  in  the  establishment  in  rank,  being 
inferior  to  the  chancellor  alone.  It  is  too  often  considered 
as  a  merely  honorary  situation  ;  but  it  has  important  du- 
ties, and  ought  as  rarely  as  possible  to  be  made  so.  In 
academical  jurisdiction,  the  rector  is  superior  even  to  the 
chancellor.  He  is  elected  annually  in  November  by  the 
professors  and  the  matriculated  students.  For  many  years 
the  custom  had  been  for  the  students  not  seriously  to  inter- 
fere ;  and,  judging  from  the  list  of  the  elected,  the  profes- 
sors seem  to  have  been  on  wonderfully  good  terms  with  the 
country  gentlemen  in  their  neighbourhood.  Adam  Smith, 
who  was  chosen  in  1787,  was  the  last  person  who  could 
have  been  chosen  on  account  of  his  literary  or  philosophi- 
cal reputation.  Jeffrey,  who  was  Jhe  next,  would  never 
have  been  chosen  in  1820  by  the  professors.  But  things 
had  begun  to  change ;  of  which  there  could  not  possibly 
be  more  striking  signs  than  the  two  facts,  that  these  young 
men  took  the  election  into  their  own  hands,  where  they 
have  kept  it  ever  since,  and  that  their  first  choice  fell  upon 
him.  His  having  been  at  that  college  himself,  and  having 
frequently  attended  their  annual  distribution  of  prizes  on 
the  1st  of  May,  perhaps  inclined  them  a  little  toward  him ; 
but  these  accidents  alone  would  never  have  produced  the  re- 
sult. He  was  elected  as  a  homage  to  his  personal  literature, 
and  to  the  great  work  with  which  his  name  was  associated, 


*  The  petition  was  signed  by  about  17,000  persons  ;  the  opposite  by 
fewer  than  2000. 


RECTORSHIP  OF  GLASGOW.  207 

and  to  his  public  principles  and  conduct.  When  he  told 
us  of  this  perfectly  unanticipated  event,  it  sounded  like  the 
intimation  of  a  miracle.  He  went  to  Glasgow,  and  was 
installed  on  the  28th  of  December,  1820,  ten  days  after 
the  Pantheon  meeting.  The  novelty  of  the  occasion  cre- 
ated great  excitement. 

He  made  a  beautiful  speech;  beautifully  delivered.*  It 
delighted  him  to  do  justice  to  the  eminent  men  he  remem- 
bered there, — Reid,  Millar,  and  Jardine,  the  last  of  whom 
had  the  gratification  of  hearing  his  old  pupil's  address. 
Of  himself  he  says,  "  It  was  here  that,  now  more  than 
thirty  years  ago,  I  received  the  earliest,  and  by  far  the 
most  valuable  part  of  my  academical  education  ;  and  first 
imbibed  that  relish  and  veneration  for  letters,  which  has 
cheered  and  directed  the  whole  course  of  my  after  life  ;  and 
to  which,  amidst  all  the  distractions  of  rather  too  busy  an 
existence,  I  have  never  faile^l  to  return  with  fresh  and  un- 
abated enjoyment.  Nor  is  it  merely  by  those  distant  and 
pleasing  recollections — by  the  touching  retrospect  of  those 
scenes  of  guiltless  ambition  and  youthful  delight,  when 
every  thing  around  and  before  me  was  bright  with  novelty 
and  hope,  that  this  place,  and  all  the  images  it  recalls,  are 
at  this  moment  endeared  to  my  heart.  Though  I  have  been 
able,  I  fear,  to  do  but  little  to  honour  this  early  nurse  of 
my  studies,  since  I  was  first  separated  from  her  bosom,  I 
will  yet  presume  to  say,  that  I  have  been,  during  all  that 
interval,  an  affectionate  and  not  an  inattentive  son.  For 
the  whole  of  that  period  I  have  watched  over  her  progress, 
and  gloried  in  her  fame.  And  at  your  literary  Olympics, 
where  your  prizes  are  distributed,  and  the  mature  swarm 
annually  cast  off  to  ply  its  busy  task  in  the  wider  circuit 
of  the  world,  I  have  generally  been  found  a  fond  and  eager 
spectator  of  that  youthful  prowess  in  which  I  had  ceased 

*  It  is  the  first  in  a  handsome  volume  of  "  Inaugural  Discourses  by 
Lords  Rectors  of  the  University  of  Glasgow,"  by  John  Earras  Hay,  pub- 
lished in  1839. 


208  LIFE   OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

to  bo  a  sharer,  and  a  delighted  chronicler  of  that  excellence 
which  never  ceased  to  be  supplied." 

He  closes  by  this  admonition — » I  have  but  a  word 
more  to  say,  and  that  is  addressed,  perhaps  needlessly,  to 
the  younger  part  of  my  hearers.  It  would  be  absurd  to 
suppose  that  they  had  not  heard  often  enough  of  the  dig- 
nity of  the  studies  in  which  they  are  engaged,  and  of  the 
infinite  importance  of  improving  the  time  that  is  now 
allotted  for  their  cultivation.  Such  remarks,  however,  I 
think  I  can  recollect,  are  sometimes  received  with  distrust, 
when  they  come  from  those  anxious  teachers  whose  au- 
thority they  may  seem  intended  to  increase ;  and,  there- 
fore, I  venture  to  think,  that  it  may  not  be  altogether 
useless  for  me  to  add  my  unsuspected  testimony  in  behalf 
of  those  great  truths ;  and,  while  I  remind  the  careless 
youth  around  me,  that  the  successful  pursuit  of  their  pre- 
sent studies  is  indispensable  to  the  attainment  of  fame  or 
fortune  in  after  life,  also  to  assure  them,  from  my  own 
experience,  that  they  have  a  value  far  beyond  their  sub- 
serviency to  worldly  prosperity ;  and  will  supply,  in  every 
situation,  the  purest  and  most  permanent  enjoyment,  at 
once  adorning  and  relieving  the  toils  and  vexations  of-  a 
busy  life,  and  refining  and  exalting  the  enjoyments  of  a 
social  one.  It  is  impossible,  however,  that  those  studies 
can  be  pursued  to  advantage  in  so  great  an  establishment 
as  this,  without  the  most  dutiful  observance  of  that  disci- 
pline and  subordination,  without  which  so  numerous  a 
society  must  unavoidably  fall  into  the  most  miserable  dis- 
order, and  the  whole  benefits  of  its  arrangements  be  lost. 
As  one  of  the  guardians  of  this  discipline,  I  cannot  bid  you 
farewell,  therefore,  without  most  earnestly  entreating  you 
to  submit  cheerfully,  habitually,  and  gracefully,  to  all  that 
the  parental  authority  of  your  instructors  may  find  it  ne- 
cessary to  enjoin ;  being  fully  persuaded,  that  such  a  free 
and  becoming  submission  is  not  only  the  best  proof  of  the 
value  you  put  on  their  instructions,  but,  in  so  far  as  I  have 


RECTORSHIP  OF  GLASGOW.  209 

ever  observed,  the  most  unequivocal  test  of  a  truly  gene- 
rous and  independent  character." 

Death  has  been  busy  since ;  but  of  about  a  dozen  friends 
•who  accompanied  him,  six  or  seven  survive,  and  remember 
the  joyous  nocturnal  banquet  by  which  the  formal  and 
academical  festival  of  this  installation  was  followed. 

He  was  elected  again,  according  to  the  usual  practice, 
next  year,  (November,  1821 ;)  and  in  November,  1822,  had 
a  very  painful  duty  to  discharge.  The  electors  are  divided 
into  four  nations,  and  it  is  a  vote  by  a  majority  of  the 
nations  that  decides  each  election ;  and  as  a  small  nation 
counts  the  same  with  a  large  one,  there  may  be  a  great 
majority  of  individual  votes,  while  the  nations  stand  two 
to  two.  In  1822,  the  persons  set  up  were  Sir  Walter 
Scott  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh.  The  nations  were  equally 
divided,  but  the  majority  of  individual  votes  was  in  favour 
of  Sir  James.  In  this  situation  it  devolved  on  the  pre- 
ceding rector  to  decide.  Both  of  the  two  chosen  were 
eminent,  both  Scotchmen,  both  his  personal  friends.  His 
feeling  was  to  do  all  honour  to  the  illustrious  Sir  Walter. 
But  his  reason  compelled  him  to  give  his  decision  in  favour 
of  Mackintosh.  His  grounds  were,  that  though  nothing 
could  exceed  the  glory  of  Scott,  Mackintosh  was  unques- 
tionably the  more  academical ;  and  that  his  supporters 
were  the  most  numerous.  This  last  consideration  has 
generally  been  deemed  conclusive  in  such  an  emergency. 
On  retiring  he  founded  a  prize. 

Soon  after  his  installation,  he  took  an  active  part  in  a 
series  of  political  meetings ;  of  all  of  which,  though  they 
went  on  annually  for  five  years  after  this,  (1821  to  1826 
inclusive,)  it  may  be  as  well  to  dispose  at  once.  When  I 
mention  that  they  were  all  public  dinners,  it  may  seem 
that,  after  such  an  interval,  they  might  have  been  allowed 
to  be  forgotten.  But,  in  point  of  fact,  they  are  not  for- 
gotten yet,  and  were  by  far  the  most  effective  of  all  the 
public  movements  in  Scotland  on  the  popular  side,  at  that 
0  i§* 


210  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

time.  Amidst  the  numerous  similar  meetings  that  were 
then  held  all  over  the  empire,  they  were  prominent  from 
the  numbers,  the  respectability,  and  the  talent,  that  distin- 
guished them.  They  were  organized  chiefly  by  the  method 
and  activity  of  Mr.  Leonard  Homer,  the  founder  of  our 
School  of  Arts,  and,  indirectly,  of  all  these  institutions  ;  one 
of  the  most  useful  citizens  that  Edinburgh  ever  possessed. 
They  gathered  together  the  aristocracy,  in  station  and 
iu  character,  of  the  Scotch  Whig  party ;  but  derived  still 
greater  weight  from  the  open  accession  of  citizens,  who 
for  many  years  had  been  taught  to  shrink  from  political 
interference  on  this  side,  as  hurtful  to  their  business.  The 
meetings  were  always  held,  as  nearly  as  could  be,  on  the 
anniversary  of  the  birth-day  of  Charles  Fox.  To  some  of 
the  elder,  these  free  and  open  meetings  were  a  gratifying 
contrast  to  the  days  in  which  this  festival  was  very  pri- 
vately held ;  yet  rarely  without  there  being  officers  and 
spies  set  to  watch  the  door,  and  to  take  down  the  names 
of  those  who  entered — a  hint  which  only  a  few  bolder 
spirits  had  nerve  to  disregard. 

These  were  not  scenes  in  which  it  was  beneath  any  man 
to  act.  Jeffrey  entered  into  their  spirit  and  their  business 
cordially  ;  and  spoke  at  every  one  of  them  ;  and  never  did 
he  speak  anywhere  with  more  forethought.  Nothing  but 
a  sense  of  duty  could  have  compelled  him  to  adhere  so 
steadily  to  exhibitions,  for  which,  in  themselves,  he  had  a 
strong  distaste.  He  never  stooped  to  any  topic  so  low  as 
that  it  bordered  on  the  common  vulgarities  of  party ;  but 
inspired  his  audiences  by  appeals  to  general  principles. 
These  addresses  were  sufficient  of  themselves  to  impress  a 
character  of  purity  and  dignity  on  each  assemblage.  He 
elevated  them  toward  the  highest  objects;  which  he  gave 
them  a  desire  to  reach  only  by  the  most  liberal  ways.  He 
presided  on  the  24th  of  January,  1825 ;  when  he  perhaps 
displayed  as  much  intellect  and  power  in  that  sort  of 
speaking  as  ever  sustained  any  one  in  that  peculiar  and 


PROPOSED  FOR  PARLIAMENT.          211 

hazardous  position.  At  the  meeting  on  the  26th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1826,  he  was  thought  to  have  surpassed  himself  in  a 
speech  recommending  candour  and  respect  toward  America. 
On  the  18th  of  November,  1825,  he  spoke  twice  at  another 
dinner  given  to  Mr.  Joseph  Hume — that  is,  to  the  cause  of 
economy,  which  that  gentleman  was  supposed  to  represent. 
One  of  these  addresses  was  on  behalf  of  the  Spaniards  and 
Italians  who  had  sought  refuge  in  Britain.  The  other  was 
on  the  combination  laws ;  and  was  chiefly  valuable  on  ac- 
count of  his  clear  and  eloquent  explanation  of  the  dangers 
and  follies  of  unions  and  strikes  by  workmen.  This  speech 
was  published  as  a  pamphlet,  and  in  two  or  three  days 
above  8000  copies  were  sold. 

Throughout  all  these  movements  the  case  of  Scotland 
was  powerfully  upheld  by  two  friends  of  his, — the  Hon. 
James  Abercrombie,  afterward  speaker,  and  now  Lord 
Dunfermline,  and  Mr.  Kennedy  of  Dunure,  M.  P. ;  to  both 
of  whom,  amid  higher  calls  to  this  duty,  the  fact  of  Jef- 
frey's opinions  and  co-operation  was  a  powerful  additional 
inducement  to  engage  in  the  course  where  their  services 
were  so  conspicuous  and  valuable. 

I  do  not  know  the  particulars  of  the  scheme,  but  there 
was  a  scheme  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1821  to  bring 
Jeffrey  into  Parliament ;  which  he  defeated  by  positively 
declining.  The  proposal  was  made  in  confidence,  and 
therefore  he  never  spoke  of  it.  But  on  the  27th  of  Janua- 
ry, 1822,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Wilkes,  "  I  have  had  two  over- 
tures to  take  a  seat  in  Parliament ;  but  have  given  a  pe- 
remptory refusal — from  taste  as  well  as  from  prudence.  I 
am  not  in  the  least  ambitious,  and  feel  no  desire  to  enter 
upon  public  life  at  such  a  moment  as  the  present." 

He  was  an  idolater  of  Loch  Lomond,  and  used  often  to 
withdraw  there  and  refresh  himself  by  its  beauties.  After 
resorting  for  several  years  to  inns,  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  gentleman,  (Mr.  McMurick,)  who,  observing  the 
stranger's  attachment  to  the  loch,  and  having  more  room 


212  LIFE   OF   LOUD   JEFFREY. 

in  his  house  than  he  required,  invited  him,  with  Mrs.  Jef- 
frey and  their  child,  to  take  up  their  quarters,  but  leaving 
them  to  follow  their  own  times  and  ways,  at  his  delightful 
little  residence  on  the  lake,  as  often  and  as  long  as  they 
chose.  This  kind  and  considerate  proposal  being  acceded 
to,  they  went  to  Stuckgown  in  the  autumn  of  1822.  These 
sojourns  generally  lasted  two  or  three  weeks,  and  were  re- 
newed, though  not  exactly  every  year,  till  his  daughter's 
marriage  in  1838,  when  they  ceased.  Dearly  did  he  enjoy 
these  retirements.  He  pretended  to  like  even  the  boating, 
and  delighted  in  mountains,  for  which  one  of  his  habits — 
an  indifference  about  rain — was  very  convenient. 

His  first  retreat  to  Stuckgown  is  thus  mentioned  in  a 
letter  to  his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Wilkes :  "  22d  September, 
1822,  Edinburgh — My  dear  friend,  Here  we  are,  enjoying 
our  autumn  leisure  as  idly  as  if  it  were  never  to  end,  and  as 
much  like  what  we  were  last  year  and  the  year  before,  and 
so  on,  as  if  we  had  neither  grown  older,  or  intended  ever 
to  begin.  The  only  thing  that  changes  visibly  is  the  little 
one,  who  does  grow  bigger  and  dearer  from  year  to  year, 
and  makes  us  start  to  think  that  she  was  a  nonentity  when 
we  parted.  Well,  but  is  not  this  a  very  good  account  of 
us,  apd  almost  all  that  need  be  said  ?  This  royal  visit* 
kept  us  in  a  fever  for  a  month  of  sweet  weather,  and  then 
we  posted  away  to  Loch  Lomond,  where  we  stayed  ten  days 
among  our  dear  cataracts  and  cliffs,  and  have  only  returned 
about  a  week  to  our  own  quiet  home*  It  rained  almost  every 
day  while  we  were  in  the  Highlands,  and  most  commonly 
all  day ;  but  the  weather  never  confined  either  Charlotte 
or  me  for  an  hour,  and  I  do  not  think  at  all  interfered  with 
our  enjoyment.  It  was  soft,  and  calm,  and  balmy,  and  we 
walked,  and  rowed,  and  climbed,  and  scrambled,  without 
minding  the  rain  any  more  than  the  ravens.  We  were  out 
eight  or  nine  hours  every  day,  thoroughly  wet  most  of  the 

*  Of  George  the  Fourth  to  Edinburgh. 


VISIT   OF   AMERICAN   RELATIVES.  213 

time,  and  never  experienced  the  least  inconvenience  or  dis- 
comfort ;  but  came  home  more  plump  and  rosy  than  we 
had  been  since  last  year.  The  roaring  of  the  mountain 
torrents  in  a  calm  morning  after  a  rainy  night 'has  some- 
thing quite  delicious  to  my  ears,  and  actually  makes  a  kind 
of  music,  of  which  you  dwellers  in  the  plains  can  have  no 
conception.  From  the  platform  before  our  door  we  had 
twenty  at  least  in  sight,  and  more  than  a  hundred  within 
hearing ;  and  the  sort  of  thrilling  they  made  in  the  air, 
with  the  mingling  of  the  different  waters  oh  the  last  swell- 
ing of  the  breeze,  had  an  effect  quite  overpowering  and 
sublime.  We  had  a  few  delicious  days  on  our  return,  which 
was  by  Hamilton  and  the  Falls  of  Clyde  ;  and  now  we  have 
bright  crisp  autumn  weather,  deeply  tinted  foliage  and 
great  clusters  of  hollyhocks,  China  roses,  stocks,  and  mig- 
nonette. The  child  was  with  us  of  course  all  the  time, 
bathed  every  day  in  the  loch,  and  went  with  me  on  the 
barouche  seat  of  the  carriage,  chattering  the  whole  way, 
and  taking  her  first  lessons  in  picturesque  beauty.  Both 
she  and  her  mother,  I  think,  have  come  home  fatter  than 
I  remember  to  have  seen  them." 

Early  in  1823  Mr.  Wilkes  came  from  New  York  with  his 
two  daughters,  Mrs.  Golden  and  Miss  Wilkes,  and  Mr. 
Golden,  on  a  visit  to  Jeffrey,  and  to  his  brother-in-law 
Mons.  Simond  at  Geneva.  It  was  a  grateful  visit  to  the 
family  at  Craigcrook,  and  to  its  Edinburgh  friends ;  who, 
though  they  have  never  seen  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  sisters  since, 
have  the  greatest  pleasure  in  their  recollection.  Mr. 
Wilkes,  who  died  in  1833,  gained  every  heart.  There 
never  was  a  more  lovable  man. 

•  As  the  American  party  meant  to  go  to  the  Continent, 
this  tempted  Jeffrey  to  engraft  an  expedition  of  his  own  on 
theirs ;  and  Mr.  Richardson  and  I  agreed  to  join  him. 
Venice  was  our  main  object ;  seeing  as  much  else  as  wo 
could  in  the  short  time  we  had.  We  accordingly  set  off 
in  July ;  saw  Belgium  and  Holland,  went  up  the  Rhine, 


214  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

into  Switzerland,  crossed  by  St.  Gothard  down  upon  the 
north  of  Italy,  and  so  to  Venice  ;  where  we  remained  some 
days  ;  then  homeward  by  Milan,  the  Simplon,  Geneva,  and 
Paris.  Jeffrey's  journal  is  full  of  dates,  places,  and  striking 
observations  and  descriptions,  but  contains  nothing  worth 
making  public..  It  was  a  delightful  journey.  Its  only  de- 
fect arose  from  his  inveterate  abhorrence  of  early  rising ; 
which  compelled  us  to  travel  during  the  hottest  part  of  the 
day.  This  aversion  to  the  dawn,  unless  when  seen  before 
going  to  bed,  lasted  his  whole  life.  He  very  seldom  went 
to  sleep  so  soon  as  two  in  the  morning,  and  distrusted  all 
accounts  of  the  early  rising  virtues.  He  tells  Lord  Mur- 
ray, in  a  letter  in  1829,  that  he  had  been  much  pleased 
with  a  family  he  had  been  visiting  near  Bath,  "  especially 
with  the  patriarch,  a  marvellous  brisk  young  gentleman  of 
eighty-two,  who  gallops  up  and  down  the  country  in  all 
weathers,  reads  without  spectacles,  and  is  neither  deaf, 
dull,  nor  testy.  I  find,  to  my  great  delight,  that  he  never 
rose  early  in  his  life ;  though  I  am  concerned  to  add  that 
he  has  for  some  years  been  a  water  drinker ;  a  vice,  tow- 
ever,  which  he  talks  of  reforming." 

He  was  in  London  again  in  1824,  upon  Scotch  appeals ; 
•with  which,  indeed,  his  visits  there  were  very  often  con- 
nected. This,  however,  was  work  which,  notwithstanding 
his  experience  in  it,  he  seems  to  have  liked  as  little. as  any 
counsel  can  ever  like  to  argue  their  own  law  before  judges 
who  do  not  understand  it.  His  practice  there  had  hitherto 
been  almost  exclusively  before  Lord  Eldon ;  who,  by  pa- 
tience, dignity,  learning,  and  respect  for  the  law  he  had  to 
dispense,  and  for  the  courts  he  had  to  direct,  left  that 
house  a  model  of  the  judicial  qualifications  by  which  alone 
its  high  appellate  character  can  be  maintained.  Yet,  even 
the  presidency  of  this  judge,  however  it  might  mitigate, 
could  not  entirely  remove  the  disagreeableness  of  address- 
ing a  court  considerably  ignorant  of  the  law  it  had  to  de- 
clare. The  mere  necessity  of  translating  terms,  and  of 


ENGLISH   AND    SCOTCH   LAW.  215 

explaining  rudiments,  is  teasing ;  and  there  is  a  far  more 
serious  distress  in  the  tendency  of  every  foreign  court  to 
respect,  or  to  despise,  whatever  it  may  hear  of  the  law  of 
another  country,  solely  according  to  its  agreement  with  the 
law  of  their  own.  Before  a  cautious  and  liberal  judge,  a 
comparison  of  systems  may  benefit  both.  But  with  a  rash 
or  a  commonplace  judge,  it  is  apt  to  be  very  hurtful.  It 
leads  him  to  condemn  and  to  ridicule  whatever  is  strange 
to  his  narrow  vision  ;  and  covers  presumption  or  indifference 
under  the  shelter  of  the  law  within  which  he  may  be  re- 
spectable. Such  a  person,  instead  of  being  awed  by  con- 
scious ignorance  into  modesty,  naturally  falls  into  the  style 
of  showing  his  superiority  by  openly  contemning,  because 
it  is  foreign,  the  law,  which  it  is  his  duty  to  understand,  or 
not  to  administer.*  * 

*  It  would  be  a  valuable  law  book  which,  omitting  cases  of  fact,  as 
useless,  should  examine  the  past  course  of  the  appellate  judgments, 
with  the  view  of  weighing  its  effects,  for  good  or  for  evil,  on  the  law  and 
the  practice  of  Scotland  on  points  of  permanent  importance. 

The  disposal  of  individual  causes,  however,  is  not  the  sole  use  of  a 
court  of  appeal.  Its  indirect  influence  in  controlling  inferior  tribunals 
is  verj  material ;  and  throughout  the  first  hundred  years  after  the  Union, 
there  were  circumstances  in  the  condition  of  Scotland  which  made  this 
control  indispensable.  But  an  appeal  now  to  a  court  not  at  home  in  the 
law  on  which  the  appeal  depends,  and  unaided  by  any  Scotch  lawyers, 
except  those  who  may  happen  to  be  at  the  bar,  and  are  consequently  in- 
terested, does  certainly  seem  strange  ;  especially  as  the  law  of  England 
appears  to  tolerate  no  rival,  and  its  practice  to  be  ill  calculated  for 
opening  the  mind  to  the  comprehension  of  general  principles,  or  of  any 
foreign  system.  Our  English  friends  wonld  perhaps  understand  the 
matter  better,  if  it  were  proposed  to  make  appeals  competent  from  their 
courts  to  ours,  of  which  the  principles  are  so  much  more  extensively 
founded  on  what  seems,  not  merely  to  ourselves,  but  to  enlightened 
strangers,  to  be  reason.  The  great  problem  is,  to  get  the  law  of  Scot- 
land deferred  to  in  the  Court  of  Appeal ;  which  in  this  matter  is  in 
theory,  and  ought  to  be  in  practice,  a  Scotch  court. 

We  sometimes  hear  English  counsel  blamed  for  their  open  derision  of 
the  law  of  Scotland  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords,  which  it  is  said  that 
they  occasionally  profess  to  feel  as  an  abomination,  and  purify  themselves 


216  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

It  added  to  his.  discomfort  that  the  dignity  of  that  high 
tribunal,  though  the  judicial  uniform  may  be  dispensed  with, 
cannot  be  maintained  without  the  full  bar  attire.  He  be- 
moans, in  a  letter  written  after  a  day's  attendance  there, 
on  this  occasion,  the  severity. of  being  obliged  to  "sit  six 
hours  silent,  in  a  wig." 

In  1825  he  got  what  he  calls  "  a  glimpse  of  Ireland,"  be- 
ing his  only  one.  His  friend  the  late  Mr.  Mungo  Brown, 
a  person  of  piety  and  of  singular  purity  of  character,  was 
going  to  the  assizes  at  Carrickfergus,  to  give  evidence  of 
the  Scotch  marriage  law,  and  this  seems  to  have  been  Jef- 
frey's temptation  to  go  and  take  a  look  at  the  country. 
They  left  Greenock  on  the  25th  of  July,  and  were  home 
again  on  the  1st  of  August ;  so  that  it  was  truly  but  a 
glimpse.  Yet  they  were  very  active,  and  his  journal  is 
rather  amusing.  "  One  sees  the  Irish  character  at  once, 
even  in  this  new  and  half  Scottish  colony — (Belfast.)  The 
loquacity — the  flattery — the.gayety — the  prompt,  unhesi- 
tating engagement  for  all  things — the  reckless  boasting — 
the  shameless  failure — the  audacious  falsehood — the  entire 
good-nature,  kindness,  and  sociality  of  disposition — are  all 
apparent  at  the  very  first,  and  do  not  soon  cease  to  strike." 
He  saw  a  good  deal  of  O'Connell,  who  is  described  as  "  large 
and  muscular  ;  with.an  air  and  an  eye  in  which  a  half  natu- 
ral and  half  assumed,  indolent  good-nature  and  simplicity 
are  curiously  blended  with  a  kind  of  cunning  and  conscious- 
ness of  superiority.  He  spoke  with  a  great  deal  of  brogue, 
and  very  fearlessly  and  readily,  on  all  subjects, — Catholic 

(after  taking  fees  in  it)"'by  protesting  that  they  find  it  difficult  to  speak 
seriously  about  any  thing  so  barbarous.  If  this  charge  be  true,  its 
only  importance  is  in  its  application  to  the  court.  Counsel  seldom  say 
•what  they  believe  will  offend  the  judges. 

The  proper  form  of  obtaining  judicial  aid  from  Scotland,  when  it  it  re- 
quired, is  a  matter  deserving  great  consideration ;  but  with  the  example 
of  England  before  us,  it  is  not  obvious  how  there  should  be  much  diffi- 
culty. • 


PROFESSORSHIP  OF   POLITICAL   ECONOMY.  217 

and  English  supremacy,  Irish  business,  law  and  individu- 
als— without  study  or  apparent  attention  to  words  or  ef- 
fect." The  velocity  of  the  criminal  proceedings  shocked 
him  ;  hut  he  was  pleased  with  the  civil  trial  for  which  Brown 
had  gone,  though  less  with  the  har  than  with  the  bench. 
"  I  heard  North  make  a  speech  of  two  and  a  half  hours, 
which  I  understood  was  a  good  specimen  of  the  most  ornate 
style  of  speaking  in  Ireland.  It  was  very  elegantly  and 
exactly  composed,  but  I  thought  puerile  in  its  style  and 
ornaments,  and  singularly  injudicious  and  extravagant  in 
its  statement,  when  compared  with  the  evidence  by  which 
it  was  followed.  It  was  very  clear,  however,  not  very 
verbose,  and  vety  pure  on  the  whole  in  diction.  But  he 
talked  of  the  Catholic  laws,  '  turning  the  torch  of  Hymen 
into  the  black  brand  of  Alecto  ;'  and  told  the  jury  that  if 
they  refused  to  believe  a  witness  because  there  might  be 
'  inaccuracies  and  exaggerations  in  his  evidence,  they  might 
as  well  refuse  to  drink  of  the  pure  and  wholesome  stream 
because  its  waters  were  stained  by  the  earth  which  com- 
posed its  banks,  or  chafed  by  the  rocks  or  pebbles  which 
broke  the  smoothness  of  its  course.' "  Jeffrey  had  the 
honour  of  dining  with  the  judges  and  the  leading  counsel, 
but  gives  rather  a  bad  account  of  the  physical  part  of  the 
banquet  — "  no  napkins  even,  or  silver  forks,  bad  port  and 
sherry  at  dinner,  and  two  bottles  of  bad  claret  after." 

Political  economy  is  so  recent  a  science  that  no  provi- 
sion for  its  being  taught  could  be  made  by  the  constitution 
of  old  colleges.  Accordingly  it  was  never  taught  in  any 
Scotch  college,  except  by  Professor  Mylne  at  Glasgow, 
and  by  Dugald  Stewart,  in  his  two  short  and  very  general 
courses,  at  the  beginning  of  this  century.  Having  now 
become  the  most  important  of  all  the  practical  moral 
sciences,  an  effort  was  made  during  this  summer  (1825)  to 
obtain  a  Regius  Professorship  for  it  in  Edinburgh,  and  to 
confer  the  office  on  Mr.  John  R.  McCulloch,  who  had 
already  given  excellent  lectures  on  this  subject,  and  was 

19 


218  LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

rising  into  the  position  he  has  attained,  as  the  first  econo- 
mist of  the  age.  The  scheme  was  at  first  warmly  patron- 
ized by  Mr.  Wallace,  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Trade, 
by  Canning,  Huskisson,  and  Lord  Dudley.  Mr.  Huskisson 
recommended  that  a  memorial  should  be  got  from  Edin- 
burgh, respectably,  but  not  numerously,  signed,  offering  to 
endow  the  chair,  and  praying  the  crown  to  erect  it,  which 
he  engaged  to  lay  before  government.  Jeffrey,  who  took 
a  deep  interest  in  the  affair,  both  from  his  conviction  of 
its  utility,  and  from  his  regard  for  Mr.  McCulloch,  and  his 
certainty  of  his  friend's  fitness,  drew  up  the  memorial  ;* 
which  was  subscribed  by  thirty  or  forty  excellent  names, 
including  those  of  five  judges  and  twelve^rofessors,  who, 
"or  some  of  them,"  engaged  to  secure  an  adequate  en- 
dowment. But  at  this  stage  an  unworthy  obstacle  waa 
thrown  in  the  way  from  Edinburgh,  and  the  plan  was 
defeated. 

Jeffrey  partook  in  1826  of  the  sorrow  and  consternation 
of  all  Scotland,  on  the  disclosure  of  the  pecuniary  misfor- 
tunes of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Mr.  Constable,  the  publisher 
of  the  Review,  whose  bankruptcy  produced  the  crash,  was 
Jeffrey's  debtor  to  a  very  considerable  amount  on  account 
of  that  work.  The  claim,  after  some  negotiation,  was 
settled.  But  even  while  his  recovering  any  thing  seemed 
extremely  doubtful,  all  feeling  for  his  own  loss  was  for- 
gotten amid  his  grief  for  the  severer  calamity  that  had 
fallen  on  Scott.  Indeed,  it  never  disturbed  his  serenity. 
Writing  to  Mr.  Richardson,  who  acted  as  usual  as  his  pro- 
fessional friend  in  London,  he  says,  (21st  January,  1826,) 
"It  is  grievous  to  annoy  you  with  all  this  dull  stuff,  which 
I  am  happy  to  tell  you  does  not  make  me  in  the  least 
unhappy.  Cockburn  has  taken  advantage  of  it  to  indite 
what  he  terms  a  Constable  dinner  ;  to  be  held  at  my  house 

*  It  was  afterward  published  in  the  Scotsman  newspaper,  27th 
Heptember,  1826. 


JUDICIAL    PROSPECTS.  219 

next  Saturday,  and  to  be  continued  iveekly  till  I  get  out  of 
my  difficulties." 

In  the  year  1827  he  left  his  house  in  George  Street,  and 
rose  to  his  last  domicile  in  24  Moray  Place. 

His  practice,  which  was  now  in  its  zenith,  lessened  his 
contributions  to  the  Review,  and  made  him  feverish  about 
new  writers.  "  Can  you  not  lay  your  hand  on  some  clever 
young  man  who  would  write  for  us  ?  The  original  sup- 
porters of  the  work  are  getting  old,  and  either  too  busy, 
or  too  stupid,  to  go  on  comfortably ;  and  here  the  young 
men  are  mostly  Tories." — (To  Allen,  3d  January,  1825.) 

During  the  first  gleam  of  liberal  government,  under  Mr. 
Canning  in  1827,  Jeffrey  was  advised,  by  some  of  his  Eng- 
lish friends  of  influence,  to  try  and  obtain  a  seat  on  the 
bench,  if  there  should  be  a  vacancy.  He  had  no  objections 
to  this  "honesta  demissio,"  but  adds  (to  me,  20th  October, 
1827,)  "  I  had  a  hankering  after  the  '  dignified  ease  of  a 
Baron  of  Exchequer.' "  A  very  natural  hankering  for 
one  who  merely  wished  for  a  very  well-paid  sinecure  ;  but 
an  odd  conception  for  a  person  of  his  mental  activity. 
The  possibility  of  some  judicial  promotion  having  trans- 
pired, the  fact  of  his  connection  with  the  Review  was 
whispered  as  an  objection.  He  asks  what  the  exact  ground 
of  the  objection  is,  and  says,  (to  me,  1st  November,  1827,) 
"  I  was  always  aware  that  the  political  character  of  the 
work,  its  party  principles,  and  occasional  party  violence, 
might,  when  concentrated  on  the  head  of  the  only  ostensi- 
ble party,  raise  an  objection  of  moment ;  and  for  this  and 
its  consequences  I  should  not  care  much.  But  it  has  oc- 
curred to  me,  I  confess  for  the  first  time,  that  the  objection 
may  be  rested  on  the  notion  that  the  Editor  of  a  periodical 
work,  whatever  its  political  character  might  be,  and  even 
if  it  were  purely  literary,  and  without  any  politics,  had 
derogated  from  the  personal  dignity  required  in  a  judge, 
and  ought  not  to  presume  so  high.  From  the  very  first 
I  have  been  anxious  to  keep  clear  of  any  tradesman-like 


220  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

concern  in  the  Review,  and  to  confine  myself  pretty 
strictly  to  intercourse  with  gentlemen  only,  even  as  con- 
tributors. It  would  vex  me,  I  must  own,  to  find  that,  in 
spite  of  this,  I  have  lowered  my  own  character,  and  per- 
haps even  that  of  my  profession,  by  my  connection  with  a 
publication  which  I  certainly  engaged  with  on  very  high 
grounds,  and  have  managed,  I  think,  without  dirtying  my 
hands  in  any  paltry  matters.  If  it  be  so,  however,  I  beg 
you  will  tell  me ;  not  merely  with  a  view  to  these  present 
dependencies,  but  to  my  whole  future  life.  But  this  is 
for  talk." 

The  purity  of  his  hands  was  so  complete,  that  throughout 
all  the  high  official  honours  that  awaited  him,  this  objec- 
tion was  never  heard  of.  However  disposed  for  judicial 
promotion,  there  were  four  persons  before  whom,  with  his 
usual  generosity,  he  says  he  would  not  like  to  advance. 
These  were  his  friends,  George  Bell,  Mr;  Thomas  Thom- 
son, John  Fullerton,  and  myself. 

On  the  14th  of  March,  1829,  he  came  forward  at  the 
last  public  meeting  (not  connected  with  his  elections)  that 
he  ever  attended ;  and  it  was  a  magnificent  one.  It  was 
called  to  petition  in  favour  of  the  removal  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  disabilities ;  and  was  composed  of  as  many  as 
could  get  into  the  assembly  room — which  could  not  be 
much,  if  at  all,  fewer  than  two  thousand.*  All  parties  ex- 
cept the  one  which  wished  these  disabilities  perpetuated 
were  represented  there,  and  a  Conservative  presided.  The 
two  most  impressive  speeches  were  by  Jeffrey  and  Chal- 
mers. Both  were  admirable ;  but  more  in  spirit  and  in 
manner  than  in  any  originality  of  thought,  which  so  hack- 
neyed a  subject  scarcely  admitted  of.  Nothing  could  be 
more  perfect  than  the  exquisite  diction,  beautiful  articula- 
tion, good  taste,  and  generous  feeling  of  the  one ;  or  the 

*  A  shilling  ought  to  have  been  paid  for  admittance,  and  about  I  700 
shillings  were  received  at  the  door. 


.DEAN    9.F   THE    FACUBTY.  221 

burning  vehemence  of  the  other.  The  effect  of  both  was 
very  great.  But  in  a  popular  assembly,  ardour  will  ever, 
at  the  moment,  be  more  impressive  than  grace.  No  more 
powerful  emotion  was  ever  produced  by  words,  than  at  the 
close  of  Chalmers's  address.  Brilliant  and  glowing  as  his 
written  pages  are,  they  are  cold  and  dull  compared  with 
his  spoken  intensity.  The  rough  broken  voice, — the  un- 
gainly form, — the  awkward  gesture, — the  broad  dingy 
face, — gave  little  indication  of  what  was  beneath.  But  the 
capacious  brow  ! — and  the  soul ! — mens  agitat  molem. 

In  a  few  months  after  this,  an  event  happened  which 
ended  his  connection  with  the  Review.  Mr.  Moncrieff,  the 
Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  was  raised  to  the  bench. 
The  deanship  is  merely  a  station  of  honour ;  but  when  not 
lowered  by  the  interference  of  political  or  other  improper 
considerations,  it  is  the  highest  honour  of  the  kind  that 
can  be  conferred  in  Scotland.  Each  election  is  only  for  a 
single  year ;  but  he  who  once  succeeds  is  almost  never  dis- 
possessed, so  that  it  is  the  presidency  for  life,  or  during 
the  holder's  pleasure,  of  the  most  important  public  body 
in  the  country.  Jeffrey's  friends  naturally  looked  to  him 
as  MoncriefTs  successor ;  and  Mr.  Geo.  Jos.  Bell  seems  to 
have  written  to  him  advising  him  to  canvass,  and  even  to 
give  up  the  Review,  as  a  canvassing  step.  The  answer  to 
this  was :  "  If  my  friends  think  that  a  stand  should  now 
be  made,  and  that  they  can  make  their  best  stand  on  me, 
I  am  willing  to  be  stood  on ;  and  shall  be  honoured  and 
gratified  to  be  promoted  or  defeated  in  their  behalf.  But 
I  think  it  becomes  me  to  be  passive,  or  chiefly  passive,  and 
most  certainly  I  shall  originate  or  suggest  nothing  in  the 
cause.  2d.  As  for  the  Review,  I  have  an  affection  for  it 
of  old,  and  I  would  rather  make  the  money  I  make  by  it, 
in  that  way,  than  by  the  same  quantity  of  work  in  my  pro- 
fession. At  the  same  time,  I  have  perhaps  done  it  all  the 
good  I  am  likely  to  do,  and  the  best  service  I  could  now 
render  it,  probably,  would  be  to  put  it  into  younger  hands. 

19" 


222  LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

3d.  If  I  were  sure  of  being  made  dean  by  announcing  that 
I  had  given  up  the  Review,  I  think  I  would  do  it  at  once. 
But  being  pretty  sure  that  I  shall  not  be  dean,  whatever 
I  announce,  I  shall  not  make  any  such  annunciation." 

Accordingly,  no  such  pledge  was  given.  But  Mr.  John 
Hope,  the  Solicitor-General,  who  had  been  set  up  against 
him,  (or  been  proposed  to  be  so,)  withdrew,  and  on  the  2d 
of  July,  1829,  Jeffrey  was  elected  unanimously.  He  says 
in  the  preface  to  his  Contributions,  that  if  Mr.  Hope  had 
not  "  generously  deferred  to  my  seniority,  his  perseverance 
might  have  endangered  the  result."  It  would  have  done 
more  than  endangered  it.  Considering,  in  addition  to  the 
solicitor's  own  professional  eminence,  and  the  Conserva- 
tive condition  of  a  majority  of  the  bar,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  his  perseverance  would  have  prevented  the  re- 
sult, and  that  he  might  have  taken  the  place  to  himself. 
But  he  acted  on  this  occasion  with  the  liberality  that  had 
marked  his  conduct  in  the  previous  case  of  Mr.  Moncrieff, 
(Nov.  2d,  1826,)  for  whose  elevation  to  the  dean's  chair  he 
made  the  motion.  He  also  moved  in  favour  of  Jeffrey,  in 
a  kind  and  manly  speech.  At  Jeffrey's  request,  I  had  the 
honour  of  seconding.  In  his  note  asking  me,  he  begs  me 
to  «  say  as  little  ill  of  me  as  your  conscience  will  let  you. 
The  solicitor  means  to  propose  me,  but  I  hope  to  have  the 
countenance  and  a  good  word  of  one  at  least  of  my  old 
friends.  I  am  not  very  sure  that  I  do  wisely  in  asking 
this ;  for  I  feel  more  nervous  in  the  prospect  of  this  public 
ceremony  than  I  can  well  account  for ;  and  though  I  could 
stand  the  eulogies  of  the  public  accuser  steadily  enough,  I 
am  not  quite  sure  of  being  able  to  maintain  my  dignity 
against  the  testimonies  that  come  from  the  heart,  and  go 
to  it."— (29th  June,  1829.) 

The  two  previous  deans,  Mr.  Cranstoun,  and  Mr.  Mon- 
crieff, were  strong  Whigs.  But  they  were  great  lawyers, 
and  were  not  implicated,  even  by  one  single  contribution, 
in  the  offences  of  the  Review.  Jeffrey  was  personally 


GIVES    UP   THE    REVIEW.  223 

guilty  of  many  of  them,  and  as  editor,  was  held  responsible 
for  them  all.  Yet  he  was  elected.  The  Faculty  did  itself 
great  credit  by.  this  proceeding,  and  received  great  honour 
in  return.  He  owed  his  elevation  to  his  professional  emi- 
nence, to  his  literary  renown,  to  his  undivided  personal 
popularity,  and  to  the  liberality  of  that  majority  of  his  breth- 
ren who  liked  him  more  than  they  disliked  his  political 
principles  and  those  of  his  work.  It  showed  the  improve- 
ment of  public  opinion,  and  the  softening  of  party  hatred. 

"  It  immediately  occurred  to  me,  (says  he  in  his  preface,) 
that  it  was  not  quite  fitting  that  the  official  head  of  a  great 
law  corporation  should  continue  to  be  the  conductor  of 
what  might  be  fairly  enough  represented  as  in  many  re- 
spects a  party  journal ;  and  I  consequently  withdrew  at 
once,  and  altogether,  from  the  management."  The  98th 
number,  which  came  out  in  June,  1829,  was  the  last  he 
edited  ;  and,  excepting  three  or  four  papers  which  he  wrote 
long  afterward,  the  one  on  the  Memoirs  of  Lady  Fanshawe, 
published  in  October,  1829,  was  the  last  he  ever  furnished 
as  a  regular  contributor. 

The  Review  then  passed  into  the  able  hands  of  its  second 
editor,  the  late  Mr.  Macvey  Napier. 

He  had  often  been  advised  to  make  a  Jist  of  his  own  con- 
tributions, but  though  not  at  all  desirous  of  concealing  any 
of  them,  he  treated  it  as  a  matter  of  indifference,  and  never 
would  take  the  trouble.  I  was  glad,  therefore,  when  one 
day,  in  December,  1840,  I  found  him,  on  my  renewing  the 
proposal,  not  so  averse  as  he  used  to  be ;  and  we  soon  sat 
down,  and  began  with  the  first  number,  and  in  the  course 
of  a  week  or  two  we  went  through  the  whole  work,  authen- 
ticating all  his  papers.  His  memory  rarely  showed  its 
tenacity  more  strikingly.  His  recollection  of  the  articles 
either  wholly  or  partially  his  was  so  assured,  that  he  gene- 
rally recognised  them  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  title.  If 
there  was  a  doubt,  it  was  oommonly  solved  by  his  mention- 
ing, before  going  farther,  some  fact,  or  phrase,  or  metu- 


LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

phor,  or  striking  sentence,  or  something  of  this  kind,  and 
saying, — "  If  that  b«  there,  it  is  mine."  His  conjecture 
was  almost  always  confirmed  on  reading  the  article,  both 
by  finding  the  test,  and  by  the  general  revival  of  his  recol- 
lection ;  so  that  at  last  all  uncertainty  was  removed.  This 
list,  brought  down  so  as  to  include  his  four  subsequent  con- 
tributions, amounting  to  201  articles,  will  be  found  in  the 
Appendix.  He  said  that  there  might  possibly  be  one  or 
two  mistakes,  but  that  he  did  not  think  that  there  were 
any. 

It  is  impossible,  on  thus  seeing  the  collected  outpourings 
of  his  mind,  not  to  be  struck  by  the  variety  of  his  matter. 
Instead  of  having  confined  himself  to  literature,  as  his  pre- 
vailing taste  for  this  department  has  made  it  sometimes  be 
supposed  that  he  did,  there  is  scarcely  a  theme  that  he  has 
not  discussed,  with  all  his  fertility  of  view,  and  all  his 
beauty  of  style.  What  other  eight  volumes  by  one  man, 
contain  such  writing,  or  such  mind,  on  so  many  and  so 
various  of  the  most  delightful  and  important  subjects  of 
human  speculation  ? 

On  closing  the  labours  of  these  twenty-seven  years,  he 
had  a  career  to  look  back  upon  such  as  never  elevated  the 
heart  of  any  one  who  had  instructed  the  public  by  periodi- 
cal address.  It  is  not  my  business  to  review  the  Review  ; 
and  I  am  conscious  of  incapacity  to  do  it.  But  it  is  not 
very  difficult  to  state  the  grounds  on  which  I  think  that 
this  was  a  splendid  retrospect. 

Independent  of  special  objections  to  particular  articles, 
the  general  censures  to  which  the  work  was  exposed  were 
the  same  in  1829  that  they  were  as  soon  as  its  character 
and  objects  were  disclosed.  And  certainly  it  was  not  for 
want  of  warning  that  what  were  said  to  be  its  errors  were 
persevered  in.  Its  enemies  for  several  years  found  great 
comfort  in  its  abuse,  which  they  vented  in  streams  of 
pamphlets  that  make  curious  reading  now.  Instead  of 
practising  the  moderation  and  candour,  the  absence  of 


CHARACTER   OF   THE    REVIEW.  225 

which  from  the  Review  is  their  great  complaint,  they  almost 
uniformly  exceed,  by  a  hundredfold,  most  of  the  offences 
which  they  ascribe  to  it.  But  .they  are  generally  kind 
enough  to  admonish  the  wicked  editor  of  the  disgrace  into 
which  he  is  falling  in  the  sight  of  all  good  men,  and  of  the 
speedy  extinction  of  his  abominable  work.  Except  in  the 
case  of  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale,  I  am  not  aware  that  any 
answer  was  ever  made  to  any  of  these  fulminations,  beyond 
an  explanatory  page  or  two  in  the  Review  itself. 

The  favourite  censure  was  of  the  Review's  severity ;  in 
which  it  was  said  to  have  a  sincerity  and  a  flippancy,  which 
showed  that  condemnation  was  its  enjoyment ;  and  that  its 
authors  sought  for  distinction,  not  in  the  discovery  and 
encouragement  of  merit,  but  in  the  detection  and  exposure 
of  defects ;  and  that,  while  rioting  in  the  delight  of  their 
power,  the  interests  of  the  victim  were  disregarded,  and 
that  his  agonies  only  enhanced  the  ridicule  under  which  he 
suffered. 

This  charge  is  not  altogether  groundless ;  but  the  fault 
is  one  that  adheres  naturally  to  the  position  of  a  reviewer. 

There  is  no  offence  to  an  author  greater  than  the  seem- 
ing contempt  of  silence,  and  therefore  the  very  act  of 
publishing  is  a  petition  for  notice.  And  the  critic,  thus 
invited,  assumes  the  censor's  chair,  and,  concealed,  has  to 
examine,  and  to  announce,  the  character  of  every  book  that 
stands  before  him  for  its  doom.  If  the  journal  be  in  the 
hands  of  men  skilled  in  the  analytical  art,  the  reviewer, 
who  has  the  advantage  of  coming  last,  is  often  better 
acquainted  with  the  matter  of  the  book  than  its  author ; 
insomuch  that,  in  many  cases,  the  criticism  is  the  abler 
work  of  the  two.  And  it  is  always  tolerably  certain  that 
there  are  many  more  who  will,  at  first,  take  their  opinions 
idly  from  the  journal,  rather  than  from  the  more  laborious 
study  of  the  original  book.  Thus,  both  from  his  situation 
and  his  talent,  the  critic,  unless  he  be  of  a  singularly  con- 
siderate temperament,  and  on  a  very  cool  subject,  naturally 
P 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

imbibes  feelings  of  conscious  superiority,  not  favourable  to 
the  exercise  of  candid  judgment.  Confidence  in  his  own 
opinion,  and  thoughtlessness  as  to  the  sensations  of  authors, 
especially  when  he  has  really  no  desire  to  hurt  them,  are 
nearly  inseparable  from  his  position  ;  and  this  tendency  is 
immensely  increased  by  the  number  of  the  occasions  on 
which  severity,  and  even  scorn,  are  absolute  duties.  Then, 
it  does  so  happen  that  all  human  censors  do  prefer  the  dis- 
corery  of  faults.  Excellence  is  more  easily  found  out ;  and 
it  leads  to  mere  praise.  But  he  who  detects  a  fault,  shows 
his  superiority,  at  least  to  him  who  committed  it ;  and  its 
being  a  fault,  seems  to  confer  a  freer  license  of  exposure. 
The  critic  therefore  makes  the  most  of  it,  not  for  the  satis- 
faction of  tormenting,  but  for  the  luxury  of  exercising  his 
skill  in  that  science,  of  which  sarcasm  and  derision  are  the 
most  popular  displays.  Blaming  and  exposing  become  arts  ; 
in  which  it  is  very  tempting  to  excel ;  and  for  which  read- 
ers are  ready  to  pay  more  than  for  better  matter.  Differ- 
ent critics  fall  into  this  habit  in  different  veins,  and  under 
different  feelings.  When  Jeffrey  gave  way  to  it,  it  was 
generally  from  mere  lightness  of  spirit.  Totally  devoid  of 
ill-nature,  and  utterly  unconscious  of  any  desire  to  hurt,  he 
handled  the  book  as  a  thing  to  be  played  with ;  without 
duly  considering  that  the  gay  and  moral  pleasantry  of 
Horace  might  produce  as  much  distress  as  the  declamatory 
weight  of  Juvenal.  These  critical  vivacities,  however  un- 
fortunate, being  the  natural  tendencies  of  the  reviewer's 
situation,  the  true  question,  in  appreciating  this  part  of 
the  character  of  a  critical  work,  is,  as  to  the  excess  in  which 
the  tendency  has  been  indulged? 

The  answer  to  this  question,  in  th.e  case  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  is  triumphant. 

In  spite  of  all  its  severity,  there  is  no  work  of  the  kind 
where  applause  has  been  conferred  more  generously,  or 
with  more  valuable  illustrations  of  its  grounds.  Where 
else  will  tW  merits  of  the  great  writers,  the  great  invent- 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  REVIEW.          227 

ors,  the  great  patriots,  or  the  great  philanthropists,  who 
shone  during  these  twenty-seven  years,  be  found  by  future 
ages  so  enthusiastically  recorded  ?  Detached  expressions 
or  opinions  may  be  objected  to ;  but,  on  the  whole,  the 
admirers  of  such  eminence  can  found  on  no  such  powerful 
and  judicious  praise.  If  this  be  the  fact,  a  w.ork  dedicated 
to  the  examination  of  the  publications  of  the  passing  day, 
and  consequently  conducted  under  all  the  passing  in- 
fluences, may  submit  to  the  blame  of  occasional  asperity. 
The  Edinburgh  Review  incurred  this  blame  at  its  outset, 
because  its  tone  was  new  ;  and  because,  contrasted  with 
the  placid  dotage  of  its  predecessors,  it  was  strong.  But 
in  time  discussion  showed  its  necessities,  and  supplied  a 
decisive  standard  by  which  the  supposed  cruelty  of  this 
journal  may  be  judged  of.  Other  journals  arose.  Which 
of  them  has  been  less  cruel  ?  Which  of  them  has  exhibit- 
ed the  virtues  for  the  want  of  which  the  Edinburgh  Review 
was  blamed  ?  Which  of  them  has  not  surpassed  it  in  all 
the  iniquities  of  its  justice  ?  Which  of  them  has  practised 
less  the  art  of  giving  pain  ? 

The  literary  and  scientific  errors  of  the  work  were  some- 
times accounted  for  by  being  ascribed  to  the  personal  an- 
tipathies of  the  editor,  and  its  political  ones  to  his  anxiety, 
from  selfishness,  to  serve  the  Whig  party.  These,  being 
charges  of  unkindness  and  dishonesty,  may  be  safely  left 
to  the  refutation  afforded  by  the  editor's  character.  De- 
ducting the  ordinary  mistakes  and  exaggerations  insepara- 
ble from  warm  discussion,  he  never  published  one  sentence 
of  his  own  that  did  not  express  his  sincere  opinion  at  the 
time.  Had  he  any  personal  unkindness  toward  Sir  Wal- 
ter? Yet  whose  poetry  did  he  review  with  less  of  the 
partiality  of  a  friend.  How  many  books  written  by  per- 
sons he  disliked  were  put  into  his  crucible,  yet  came  out  all 
the  brighter  for  his  illustration  of  their  merits  !  If  the 
hope  of  personal  advantage  had  affected  his  political  writ- 
ing, his  clear  course  would  have  been  to  have  given  up 


*>  * 

228  LIFE    OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  Review,  or  to  have  softened  its  tone.  Nothing  could 
be  so  bad  for  his  personal  interest,  even  as  a  politician,  as 
what  ho  did. 

Of  the  charges  against  Jeffrey  personally,  none  was  more 
absurd  or  proclaimed  with  greater  perseverance,  than  his 
treatment  of  the  Lake  Poets  ;  whom  he  was  said  to  have 
persecuted  with  ungenerous  obstinacy.  No  answer  to  this 
can  be  more  graceful  or  effective  than  his  own  :  "  I  have 
in  my  time  said  petulant  and  provoking  things  of  Mr. 
Southey,  and  such  as  I  would  not  say  now.  But  I  am  not 
conscious  that  I  was  ever  unfair  to  his  poetry ;  and  if  I 
have  noted  what  I  thought  its  faults  in  too  arrogant  and 
derisive  a  spirit,  I  think  I  have  never  failed  to  give  hearty 
and  cordial  praise  to  its  beauties — and  generally  dwelt 
much  more  largely  on  the  latter  than  the  former.  Few 
things,  at  all  events,  would  now  grieve,  me  more  than  to 
think  I  might  give  pain  to  his  many  friends  and  admirers, 
by  reprinting,  so  soon  after  his  death,  any  thing  which 
might  appear  derogatory  either  to  his  character  or  his 
genius ;  and  therefore,  though  I  cannot  say  that  I  have 
substantially  changed  any  of  the  opinions  I  have  formerly 
expressed  as  to  his  writings,  I  only  insert  in  this  publica- 
tion my  review  of  his  last  considerable  poem,  which  may 
be  taken  as  conveying  my  matured  opinion  of  his  merits — 
and  will  be  felt,  I  trust,  to  have  done  no  scanty  or  unwill- 
ing justice  to  his  great  and  peculiar  powers."— ^Contribu- 
tions, vol.  iii.  p.  133.) 

« I  have  spoken  in  many  places  rather  too  bitterly  and 
confidently  of  the  faults  of  Mr.  Wordsworth's  poetry  ;  and 
forgetting  that,  even  on  my  own  view  of  them,  they  were 
but  faults  of  taste,  or  venial  self-partiality,  have  sometimes 
visited  them,  I  fear,  with  an  asperity  which  should  be  re- 
served for  objects  of  moral  reprobation.  If  I  were  now  to 
deal  with  the  whole  question  of  his  poetical  merits,  though 
my  judgment  might  hot  be  substantially  different,  I  Jiope 


CHARACTER   OF   THE   REVIEW.  229 

I  should  repress  the  greater-  part  of  these  vivacities  of  ex- 
pression ;  and  indeed  so  strong  has  been  my  feeling  in 
this  way,  that  considering  how  much  I  have  always  loved 
many  of  the  attributes  of  his  genius,  and  how  entirely  I 
respect  his  character,  it  did  at  first  occur  to  me  whether  it 
was  quite  fitting  that,  in  my  old  age  and  his,  I  should  in- 
clude in  this  publication  any  of  those  critiques  which  may 
have  formerly  given  pain  or  "offence  to  him  or  his  admirers. 
But  when  I  reflected  that  the  mischief,  if  there  really  ever 
was  any,  was  long  ago  done,  and  that  I  still  retain,  in 
substance,  the  opinions  which  I  should  now  like  to  have 
more  gently  expressed,  I  felt  that  to  omit  all  notice  of 
them  on  the  present  occasion  might  be  held  to  import  a 
retractation  which  I  am  as  far  as  possible  from  intending ; 
or  even  be  represented  as  a  very  shabby  way  of  backing 
out  of  sentiments  which  should  either  be  manfully  persisted 
in,  or  openly  renounced,  and  abandoned  as  untenable." — 
(Contributions,  vol.  iii.  p.  233.) 

Since,  in  the  cases  of  these  two  most  eminent  of  the 
school,  he  regrets  his  occasional  unguardedness  of  lan- 
guage, but  retains  his  opinions,  the  only  thing  to  be  con- 
sidered is,  whether  the  opinions  be  sound  ?  This,  however, 
is  a  mere  matter  of  taste.  But  supposing  them  to  be  un- 
sound, it  is  absolutely  ludicrous  to  say  that  his  errors  are 
so  gross  as  to  imply  unkindness, — which  is  the  principal 
part  of  the  charge.  Where  is  the  best  stated  praise  of 
what  is  good  in  these  poets  to  be  found  ?  Unquestionably 
in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  Accompanied,  no  doubt,  with 
severe  condemnation  of  their  supposed  faults.  But  is  it 
not  a  fact,  that,  in  so  far  as  continued  circulation  is  a  crite- 
rion of  permanent  excellence,  time  is  every  day  confirming 
almost  all  his  poetical  judgments  ?  and  particularly  his 
judgments  on  the  Lake  Poets  ?  Southey  himself  antici- 
pates the  day  in  which  his  admirers,  though  the  wisest, 
are  scarcely  to  exceed  a  dozen.  What  poet  whom  Jeffrey 
condemns  continues  a  favourite  with  the  public,  except  in 

20 


230  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  works,  or  in  the  passages,  or  in  the  qualities,  which  he 
applauds  ? 

The  hatred  of  the  political  opinions  of  the  work,  is,  in 
its  original  intensity,  scarcely  comprehensible  now.  The 
present  age  thinks  with  composure  of  such  things  as  Ca- 
tholic Emancipation  and  Parliamentary  Reform,  because 
they  are  settled.  But  forty  years  ago  they  were  dreams ; 
— favourite  visions  with  philosophers  ; — but  not  within  the 
horizon  of  any  practical  imagination.  When  those,  there- 
fore, whose  ascendency,  or  whose  conceptions  of  public 
tranquillity,  were  involved  in  the  unquestioning  belief  that 
whatever  was  was  right,  saw  their  ark  touched,  they  were 
struck  with  horror,  and  could  impute  what  alarmed  them 
to  nothing  but  wickedness  and  intentional  mischief.  In 
these  circumstances  no  prudence  could  have  disarmed  hos- 
tility. But,  in  place  of  uniform  prudence,  there  did  occur 
those  occasional  indiscretions,  without  which  what  periodi- 
cal criticism  of  living  things  will  ever  be  conducted  ?  The 
irritability  of  authors,  the  terrors  of  honest  Toryism,  and 
the  devotion  of  churches  to  themselves,  might  all  have 
been  sometimes  more  gently  treated.  Indifference  to  the 
prejudices  of  these  parties  raised  more  angry  enemies  to 
the  Review  than  were  raised  by  the  deeper  offences  of  its 
doctrines. 

Its  political  offences  all  resolve  into  its  despair  of  the 
war,  and  its  recommendation  of  popular  and  economical 
reforms.  It  would  be  idle  to  answer  objections  which 
merely  amount  to  this,  that  the  objectors  -differ  from  the 
party  objected  to.  For  every  man  by  whom  the  public 
opinions  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  were  condemned,  there 
was  one  other  man,  if  not  ten,  by  whom  they  were  ap- 
plauded. Discounting  zealots  on  both  sides,  and  appealing 
to  those  of  impartial  judgment,  the  great  majority  will 
concur  in  regretting  occasional  error,  but  in  admiring 
general  wisdom ;  and  in  acknowledging  that  the  political 
improprieties  of  the  Review  were  only  such  as  always  ad- 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  REVIEW.  231 

here  to  controversy,  and  that  no  party  work  ever  urged 
its  views  with  greater  intelligence  and  purity.  Since  the 
editor  and  his  associates  thought  the  war  hopeless,  it  was 
their  duty  to  do  what  they  could,  by  argument,  to  convince 
the  public  that  it  ought  to  be  brought  to  a  close.  Their 
opinion  was  that  of  many  of  the  wisest  men,  and  the  best 
patriots,  that  we  had.  They  must  be  judged  of  as  at  the 
time,  and  not  after  the  bubble  of  Napoleon's  ambition 
burst  by  its  own  expansion.  Since  they  believed  that  the 
success  of  the  Whigs  was  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the 
country,  ought  they  to  have  concealed  this  conviction,  in- 
stead of  advancing  and  anticipating  the  wisdom  of  coming 
parliaments  ? 

In  judging  of  the  value  of  all  such  charges,  as  against 
the  editor  of  a  review,  too  little  consideration  is  commonly 
given  to  the  very  peculiar  position  that  he  occupies.  He 
is  responsible  for  all  that  the  work  may  contain,  in  certain 
senses,  and  to  certain  effects  ;  but  not  at  all  in  the  same 
way  that  any  honourable  writer  is  for  what  he  gives  forth 
as  his  own  composition,  and  as  the  expression  of  his  own 
thoughts.  No  editor,  depending  on  the  co-operation  of 
numerous  contributors,  can  be  so.  For  even  as  controlling 
others,  though  armed  with  a  pretty  strong  discretion,  he 
is  never  altogether  absolute.  "  We  are  growing  (to  Hor- 
ner,  20th  July,  1810)  too  factious.  I  admit  it,  and  it  mor- 
tifies me  as  much  as  any  one  to  think  that  we  are.  But 
you  judge  rightly  of  my  limited  power,  and  of  the  over- 
grown privileges  of  some  of  my  subjects.  I  am  but  a 
feudal  monarch  at  best,  and  my  throne  is  oversb.adow.ed 
by  the  presumptuous  crests  of  my  nobles.  However,  I 
issue  laudable  edicts,  inculcating  moderation  and  candour, 
and  hope  in  time  to  do  some  little  good.  A  certain  spice  of 
aristocracy  in  my  own  nature  withholds  me  from  the  com- 
mon expedient  of  strengthening  myself  by  a  closer  union 
with  the  lower  orders ;  but  I  would  give  a  great  deal  for  a 
few  chieftains  of  a  milder  and  more  disciplined  character.." 


232  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Bating  these  slight  exceptions,  we  can  only  estimate 
our  permanent  obligations  to  the  Edinburgh  Review,  when 
Jeffrey  retired  from  it,  by  placing  ourselves  on  the  emi- 
nence of  1829,  and  looking  back  on  the  space  between 
that  point  and  the  month  of  October,  1802.  It  is  nearly 
impossible  even  to  count  the  useful  intervening  changes. 
A  few  of  the  more  material  ones  stand  out,  and  will  for 
ever  display  themselves,  as  the  great  marks  that  attest  the 
progress  of  the  age.  In  1802,  dread  of  the  people,  and  a 
stern  resistance  of  improvement,  because  it  implied  change, 
were  the  necessary,  and  often  the  only,  qualifications  for 
favour  with  the  party  in  possession  of  power.  The  rights 
of  religious  toleration  were  so  little  understood,  that 
several  millions  of  the  population  were  subjected,  on  ac- 
count of  their  creed,  or  their  forms,  to  various  important 
disabilities.  We  traded  in  human  beings,  under  the  pro- 
tection of  a  great  party,  and  of  the  law.  Popular  educa- 
tion was  so  utterly  unknown  to  England,  that  the  ignorance 
of  the  lower  orders  was  considered  as  a  positive  recom- 
mendation. Ireland  was  in  a  state  of  disorderly  barba- 
rism; and,  because  it  was  peopled  by  Papists,  this  was 
thought  its  natural  and  its  deserved  condition.  There  was 
much  hardness  or  indifference  in  public  opinion  ;  showing 
itself  particularly  in  the  severity  of  our  dealings  with  all 
we  had  to  punish  or  control, — the  sailor  or  soldier,  the 
criminal,  the  insolvent,  the  lunatic,  and  the  young.  The 
foundations  of  many  parts  of  our  public  policy  were  hol- 
low ;  or,  where  solid,  what  had  been  raised  upon  them  was 
unsound ;  so  that  facility  of  revision  was  what  was  required ; 
yet  these  defects  were  exactly  what  were  successfully  main- 
tained to  be  the  best  part  of  our  policy.  The  mere  ele- 
ments of  political  economy  were  very  sparingly  known, 
except  to  a  very  small  class.  Some  of  the  physical  sciences, 
such  as  geology,  were  only  arising,  and  all  of  them  ad- 
mitted of  great  improvement.  The  literary  horizon  was 
but  beginning  to  glow  with  the  brilliancy  of  its  later 


EFFECTS   OF   THE    REVIEW.  233 

great  era.  The  public  mind  was  in  the  bud ;  but,  if  not 
cherished,  the  blossom  and  the  fruit  might  have  been 
destroyed,  or  long  delayed. 

In  the  year  1829,  all  this  was  altered  or  mitigated.  The 
alteration  from  youth  to  manhood,  in  an  individual,  is  not 
more  complete  than  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  the 
nation.  That  miserable  horror  of  change,  which  must  in 
time  reduce  any  country  to  idiocy,  was  duly  abated  ;  and 
novelty,  though  it  never  of  itself  became  a  recommenda- 
tion, ceased  to  be  a  reproach,  and  conclusive.  The  Pro- 
testant dissenter  and  the  Papist  were  emancipated.  No- 
thing effectual  was  yet  done  for  popular  education  ;  but  the 
existing  evil  had  been  exposed  ;  and  we  heard  little  of  the 
praises  of  ignorance.  The  sad  insanities  of  Ireland,  which 
may  still  baffle  a  century  of  sound  legislation,  were  not 
cured;  but  the  folly  of  dealing  with  that  as  a  doomed 
island,  and  the  duty  of  trying  to  relieve  its  miseries,  though 
self-inflicted,  by  justice  and  prudence,  and  the  hope  of  the 
ultimate  success  of  wise  measures  even  on  that  people, 
came  to  be  the  habitual  sentiments  of  parliaments  and  of 
public  men.  Our  great  crime  of  slavery  was  put  down  ; 
and  the  many  curses  by  which  it  will  ever  revenge  itself 
upon  any  people  that  practise  it  were  avoided.  The  light 
was  admitted  into  many  abuses,  and  many  defects,  in  many 
parts  of  our  polity,  not  excepting  the  fiscal  and  the  legal, 
the  most  inscrutable  and  the  best  guarded  of  them  all. 
The  heart  of  the  nation  was  softened.  All  the  haunts, 
whether  of  penal  or  corrective  control,  of  innocent  or  of 
guilty  misery,  were  reformed  by  that  pity  which  would 
have  entered  them  in  vain,  but  for  the  improved  humanity 
of  the  age.  Commercial  and  kindred  questions  came  to  be 
solved  by  an  application  of  the  economical  science  to  which 
they  belong,  and  which  lost  by  discussion  much  of  its  mys- 
tery, and  became  familiar  to  the  ordinary  thoughts  of 
ordinary  people.  That  extension  of  the  elective  franchise, 
without  which  it  now  seems  certain  that  revolution  coula 

20* 


234  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

not  have  been  long  delayed,  had  not  actually  taken  place ; 
but  it  was  close  at  hand.  Campbell,  Crabbe,  Southey, 
Scott,  Byron,  Moore,  and  Wordsworth,  had  risen,  and 
shone,  and  nearly  passed  away.  But  not  till  the  true  prin- 
ciples of  poetical  composition  had  been  examined  and  ap- 
plied to  each.  There  never  was  a  period  in  which  such 
numerous  and  splendid  contributions,  moral  and  physical, 
were  made  to  the  treasury  of  public  knowledge  ;  and  all 
of  these  were  now  discussed  with  no  general  and  feeble  ex- 
pressions of  praise  or  of  blame,  but  with  a  degree  of  inde- 
pendence and  talent,  entering  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
matter,  that  gave  people  of  all  sides  an  assurance  of  being 
adequately  instructed. 

If  there  be  a  person  who  thinks  that  the  condition  of  the 
people  and  of  our  institutions  and  system  was  better  in 
1802  than  in  1829,  and  who,  consequently,  if  he  could, 
would  go  back  to  the  earlier  period,  that  person,  of  course, 
can  feel  no  gratitude  to  the  Edinburgh  Review.  But  who- 
ever exults  in  the  dropping  away  of  so  many  fetters,  and 
in  the  improvement  of  so  many  parts  of  our  economy,  and 
in  the  general  elevation  of  the  public  mind,  must  connect 
all  these  with  the  energy  and  intelligence  of  this  journal. 
Not  that  many  of  these  changes,  or  perhaps  all  of  them, 
would  not  have  taken  place  although  this  work  had  never 
existed;  for,  to  a  certain  extent,  they  arose  naturally  out 
of  the  advance  of  a  free  community.  But  they  certainly 
would  not  have  occurred  so  soon,  or  so  safely.  There  is 
scarcely  one  abuse  that  has  been  overthrown,  which,  sup- 
ported as  every  one  was,  might  not  have  still  survived,  nor 
a  right  principle  that  has  been  adopted  which  might  not 
have  been  dangerously  delayed,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
well-timed  vigour  and  ability  of  this  Review.  It  was  the 
established  champion  of  the  measures,  and  principles,  and 
feelings  that  have  prevailed  ;  and  the  glory  of  the  victory 
cannot  be  withheld  from  the  power  that  prepared  the  war- 
riors who  fought  the  battle. 


EFFECTS   OF   THE   REVIEW.  235 

It  was  not  merely  that  the  journal  expounded  and  de- 
fended right  principles  and  objects.  Its  prerogative  was 
higher.  It  taught  the  public  to  think.  It  opened  the  peo- 
ple's eyes.  It  gave  them,  periodically,  the  most  animated 
and  profound  discussions  on  every  interesting  subject,  that 
the  greatest  intellects  in  the  kingdom  could  supply.  The 
mere  mention  of  the  names  of  a  few  of  those  who  addressed 
the  public  through  this  organ,  during  Jeffrey's  editorship, 
is  of  itself  sufficient  to  attest  the  high  character  of  the  in- 
struction given,  and  to  guaranty  its  safety.  How  could  a 
periodical  work  be  but  magnificent,  of  which  it  could  be 
said  that  it  was  carried  on  by  such  men  as  the  following, 
all  in  the  full  force  of  their  powers,  and  each  zealous  on  his 
favourite  subject,  viz. : — Jeffrey,  Smith,  Homer,  Brougham, 
Thomas  Brown,  Walter  Scott,  John  Playfair,  Hallam, 
Malcolm  Laing,  George  Ellis,  Wilberforce,  Lord  Melbourne, 
John  Allen,  Coleridge,  Malthus,  Payne  Knight,  Professor 
Lesley,  D.  Mackintosh,  Daniel  Ellis,  Moore,  Dr.  John 
Gordon,  Palgrave,  Leigh  Hunt,  Romilly,  Foscolo,  Dr. 
Chalmers,  Professor  Wilson,  J.  R.  Macculloch,  Empson,  Dr. 
Arnold,  Sir  William  Hamilton,  Macaulay,  Carlyle,  Robert 
Grant,  Hazlitt,  Alexr.  (Sanscrit)  Hamilton,  Thomas  Camp- 
bell, Peter  Elmsley,  Phillimore,  James  Mill,  Macvey  Na- 
pier, Chenevix,  Bloomfield,  Sir  II.  Parnell,  General  William 
Napier.  Many  other  bright  stars  might  be  added  ;  but  the 
sky  that  blazes  with  these  constellations  is  bright  enough. 
Their  influence  in  illuminating  the  age  may  be  ascertained 
by  every  man  for  himself.  Let  any  regular  reader  of  this 
Review  recollect,  and  say  how  many  of  his  opinions,  and 
of  the  reasons  for  them,  were  formed  from  its  successive 
articles ;  and  how  largely  the  feelings  and  principles  that 
he  now  owns  were  breathed  into  him  by  its  general  spirit. 

Thus  the  Review  soared,  from  the  very  first,  into^t  higher 
region,  and  became  itself  the  principal  work  of  the  day. 
And  while  none  of  the  successors  it  produced  have  found  it 
expedient  to  avoid  its  form  or  its  professional  principles, 


236  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFAKY. 

all  of  them  have  prospered  or  failed  just  according  to  the 
success  with  which  they  have  imitated  its  talent  and  inde- 
pendence. Read  with  admiration  in  every  spot  where 
English  is  known,  it  was  crowned  by  the  only  remaining 
honour  of  being  proscribed  by  every  government  to  which 
free  inquiry  was  dangerous.. 

Jeffrey's  value  as  editor  was  incalculable.  He  had  not 
only  to  revise  and  arrange  each  number  after  its  parts  were 
brought  together,  but  before  he  got  this  length,  he,  like 
any  other  person  in  that  situation,  had  much  difficult  and 
delicate  work  to  perform.  He  had  to  discover,  and  to  train 
authors;  to  discern  what  truth  and  the^public  mind  re- 
quired ;  to  suggest  subjects ;  to  reject,  and,  more  offensive 
still,  to  improve  contributions ;  to  keep  down  absurdities ; 
to  infuse  spirit ;  to  excite  the  timid  ;  to  repress  violence  ; 
to  soothe  jealousies ;  to  quell  mutinies ;  to  watch  times ; 
and  all  this  in  the  morning  of  the  reviewing  day,  before 
experience  had  taught  editors  conciliatory  firmness,  and 
contributors  reasonable  submission.  He  directed  and  con- 
trolled the  elements  he  presided  over  with  a  master's  judg- 
ment. There  was  not  one  of  his  associates  who  could  have 
even  held  these  elements  together  for  a  single  year.  The 
merit  of  getting  so  many  writers  to  forego  the  ordinary 
jealousies  of  authors  and  of  parties,  and  to  write  invisibly, 
and  without  the  fame  of  individual  and  avowed  publication, 
in  the  promotion  of  a  work  made  up  of  unconnected  por- 
tions, and  assailed  by  such  fierce  and  various  hostility,  is 
due  to  him  entirely.  He  acquired  it  by  his  capacity  of 
discussing  almost  any  subject,  in  a  conciliatory  spirit,  with 
almost  any  author ;  by  the  wisdom  with  which  his  authori- 
ty was  exercised  ;  by  the  infusion  of  his  personal  kindness 
into  his  official  intercourse  ;  and  his  liberal  and  gentleman- 
like demeanour.  Inferior  to  these  excellences,  but  still 
important,  was  his  dexterity  in  revising  the  writings  of 
Others.  Without  altering  the  general  tone  or  character  of 
the  composition,  he  had  great  skill  in  leaving  out  defective 


EFFECTS   OF   THE   REVIEW.  237 

ideas  or  words,  and  in  so  aiding  the  original  by  lively  or 
graceful  touches,  that  reasonable  authors  were  surprised 
and  charmed  on  seeing  how  much  better  they  looked  than 
they  thought  they  would. 

As  a  writer,  his  merits  were  of  the  very  highest  order. 
It  may  be  doubted  if  there  be  a  critical  work  in  the  Eng- 
lish language,  including  such  a  variety  of  subject,  superior 
to  his  Selected  Contributions.  But  these  are  not  nearly 
one-half  of  what  he  gave  the  Review,  and  many  of  his 
finest  articles  are  omitted.  The  general  peculiarities  of 
his  productions  are  to  be  found  in  their  reasoning  wisdom 
and  their  graceful  composition.  Amid  all  the  enlightened 
minds  and  all  the  powerful  writers,  around  him,  he  never 
fails  tp  shine  so  brightly,  that  there  is  no  other  person  the 
extinction  of  whose  contributions  would  so  deeply  alter  the 
character  of  the  work.  Whatever  influence  it  had  upon 
the  age,  that  influence  is  to  be  more  ascribed  to  him  than 
to  any  other  individual  connected  with  it.  This  was  not 
the  result  of  his  genius  alone.  The  most  gratifying  part 
of  his  triumph  is  to  be  ascribed  to  his  taste  for  happiness 
and  goodness,  and  his  love  of  promoting  them.  How  de- 
lightful, because  how  true,  is  the  statement  of  the  feelings 
with  which,  after  an  interval  of  fourteen  years  from  his 
retirement,  he  looks  back  on  the  object  and  the  tendency 
of  his  personal  contributions  !  "  If  I  might  be  permitted 
farther  to  state,  in  what  particular  department,  and  ge- 
nerally on  account  of  what  I  should  most  wish  to  claim  a 
share  of  those  merits,  I  should  certainly  say  that  it  was 
by  having  constantly  endeavoured  to  combine  ethical  pre- 
cepts with  literary  criticism,  and  earnestly  sought  to  im- 
press my  readers  with  a  sense,  both  of  the  close  connection 
between  sound  intellectual  attainments  and  the  higher 
elements  of  duty  and  enjoyment ;  and  of  the  just  and  ulti- 
mate subordination  of  the  former  to  the  latter.  The  praise, 
in  short,  to  which  I  aspire,  and  to  merit  which  I  am  con- 
scious that  my  efforts  were  most  constantly  directed,  is 


238  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

that  I  have,  more  uniformly  and  earnestly  than  any  pre- 
ceding critic,  made  the  moral  tendencies  of  the  works  under 
consideration  a  leading  subject  of  discussion,  and  neglected 
no  opportunity,  in  reviews  of  poems  and  novels,  as  well  as 
of  graver  productions,  of  elucidating  the  true  constituents 
of  human  happiness  and  virtue ;  and  combating  those 
besetting  prejudices  and  errors  of  opinion  which  appear  so 
often  to  withhold  men  from  the  path  of  their  duty,  or  to 
array  them  in  foolish  and  fatal  hostility  to  each  other.  I 
cannot,  of  course,  do  more,  in  this  place,  than  intimate 
this  proud  claim.  But  for  the  proof,  or  at  least  the  ex- 
planation of  it,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  refer  to  the 
greater  part  of  the  papers  that  follow." — (Preface  to  the 
Contributions.) 

I  return  from  this  (too  long)  digression,  to  the  narrative 
of  the  facts  of  his  life. 

There  was  no  educational  establishment,  except  those 
for  the  education  of  the  poor,  in  which  he  took  a  greater 
interest  than  in  the  Edinburgh  Academy.  This  is  a  pro- 
prietary day-school,  instituted  with  the  view  of  raising  the 
quality  and  the  tone  of  education,  in  its  higher  branches, 
for  boys  of  all  classes.  It  was  opened  in  1824  ;  Sir  Harry 
Moncrieff  invoking  the  Divine  aid,  and  Sir  Walter  Scott 
and  Mr.  Henry  Mackenzie  senior,  the  patriarch  of  Scottish 
literature,  addressing  the  assemblage.  It  had  long  the 
benefit  of  the  powerful  head-mastership  of  the  Archdeacon 
John  Williams,  who  now  presides  over  the  establishment  at 
Llandovery ;  and  it  at  present  flourishes  under  the  charge 
of  the  Rev.  John  Hannah,  of  Oxford.  It  has  realized  all 
the  expectations  of  its  founders ;  and,  besides  being  in- 
disputably the  best  school  in  this  country,  it  has  indirectly 
improved  all  the  other  schools  of  the  same  class.  If  a  cor- 
rect account  were  taken,  it  would  probably  be  found  that, 
independently  of  other  colleges,  more  of  its  pupils  have 
gained  honours  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  than  all  the 
pupils"  of  all  the  other  schools  in  Scotland  since  the  Edin- 


LORD-ADVOCATE.  239 

burgh  Academy  began.  Jeffrey  was  one  of  the  original 
proprietors,  and  afterward  a  director ;  and  on  the  30th  of 
July,  1830,  he  presided,  and  delivered  the  prizes,  at  the 
annual  exhibition.  No  addresses  to  boys  could  be  marked 
by  better  judgment,  or  better  feelings,  than  those  delivered 
by  him  on  this  occasion.  Thoroughly  acquainted  with 
their  minds,  he  said  every  thing  that  could  arouse  and 
direct  their  ambition. 

Relieved  of  the  anxious  and  incessant  labour  of  the  Re- 
view, he  expected  that  what  remained  of  his  life  would  be 
passed  in  comparative  repose.  But  in  December,  1830, 
the  Whigs  came  into  office,  and  he,  by  pre-eminence,  was 
appointed  Lord-Advocate.  This,  in  one  unexpected  mo- 
ment, changed  his  whole  habits,  prospects,  and  avocations. 
He  had  hitherto  lived  entirely  in  Edinburgh,  or  its  neigh- 
bourhood, enjoying  his  fame  and  popularity  with  his  private 
friends, — an  honourable  and  happy  life,.  But  he  had  now 
to  interrupt  his  profession ;  to  go  into  Parliament  at 
alarming  pecuniary  risk  ;  to  forego  the  paradise  X)f  Craig- 
crook,  and  his  delicious  vacations;  to  pass  many  weary 
months,  and  these  summer  ones,  in  London ;  to  be  no 
longer  the  easy  critic  of  measures,  but  their  responsible 
conductor ;  and  to  be  involved,  without  official  training, 
in  all  the  vexations  of  official  business.  These  calamities 
he  would  have  avoided  if  he  could.  But  being  assured 
that  his  party  and  the  public  were  concerned,  he  sub- 
mitted. After  stating  the  dangers  of  his  new  situation  to 
his  niece,  Miss  Brown,  he  adds,  "  Now  I  do  not  say  this 
in  the  way  of  whining,  but  only  to  let  you  see  how  good 
reason  I  have  for  being  sincerely  sick  and  sorry  at  an  ele- 
vation for  which  so  many  people  are  envying,  and  thinking 
me  the  luckiest  and  most  elevated  of  mortals  for  having 
attained." — (3d  December,  1830.) 

He  makes  in  this  letter  another  very  natural  reflec- 
tion :  "  Will  you  not  come  to  see  us  before  we  go  ?  You 
will  find  me  glorious  in  a  flounced  silk  gown,  and  long 


240  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

cravat, — sending  men  to  the  gallows,  and  persecuting 
smugglers  for  penalties, — and  every  day  in  a  wig,  and 
most  days  with  buckles  on  my  shoes !  I  wish  my  father 
had  lived  to  see  this, — chiefly,  I  hope,  for  the  pleasure  it 
would  have  given  him  ;  but  partly  too,  I  will  avow,  for  the 
triumph  I  should  have  had  over  all  his  sad  predictions  of 
the  ruin  I  was  bringing  on  my  prospects  by  my  Whig  polir 
tics,  and  of  the  bitter  repentance  I  should  one  day  feel  for 
not  following  his  Tory  directions — though  it  was  but  a  ha- 
zard, after  all ;  and  he  had  a  fair  chance  of  being  right,  as 
to  worldly  matters  at  least; — and  so  good  night." 

There  is  no  situation  native  to  Scotland  of  greater  trust 
or  dignity  than  that  of  Lord-Advocate.  Yet,  as  it  is  dealt 
with,  it  is  not  an  office  that  a  sensible  man,  considering  his 
own  interest  alone,  would  desire  to  have.  In  so  far  as  each 
is  the  legal  adviser  of  the  crown  in  their  respective  coun- 
tries, the  Lord-Advocate  is  in  Scotland  something  like  the 
Attorney-General  in  England.  But,  practically,  their  po- 
sitions afe  very  different.  The  total  official  emoluments 
of  the  Lord-Advocate  are,  on  an  average,  not  above  ,£8000 
a  year ;  in  addition  to  which,  his  only  other  reward,  or 
hope  of  reward,  consists  in  the  chance  of  judicial  promo- 
tion. His  direct  patronage  is  exceedingly  slender,  and  for 
the  patron,  patronage  is  more  of  a  torture  than  of  a  reward. 
For  these  considerations,  he  has  to  obtain  a  seat,  or  seats, 
in  Parliament;  which,  between  December,  1830,  and  May, 
1832,  cost  Jeffrey  about  ^£10,000.  Then  he  has  to  go  to 
London,  and  return  so  often,  or  to  remain  so  long,  that  his 
practice  is  greatly  injured,  and  generally  extinguished. 
And  as  there  is  no  Scotch  secretary,  and  Scotch  matters, 
however  simple,  are  very  apt  to  be  taken  up  as  mysteries 
by  those  who  do  not  choose  to  understand  them,  the  gene- 
ral business  of  the  country  is  thrown  upon  the  Lord- Advo- 
cate, to  an  extent  that,  if  attempted  toward  an  Attorney- 
General,  would  quash  him  in  a  week.  Homer  says  truly, 
(in  1804,)  that  the  Lord-Advocate,  "in  the  management 


LORD-ADVOCATE.  241 

of  elections  and  general  assemblies,  and  town-councils,  &c., 
has  been  hitherto  no  better  than  a  sub-clerk  in  the  Treasu- 
ry,"— which  he  is  of  opinion  was  an  unnecessary  degrada- 
tion.— (Memoirs,  i.  269.)  And  this  is  not  only  the  use  to 
which  the  Lord-Advocate  is  still  far  too  much  applied  by 
government ;  but  every  other  party  fancies  that  he  is  en- 
titled to  use  him  in  the  same  way ;  and  to  hold  him  respon- 
sible, beyond  his  correct  legal  line,  not  only  for  the 
measures  that  he  promotes,  but  for  those  that  he  opposes. 
If  duly  supported  by  his  masters,  he  might  withstand  all 
this.  But  they,  commonly  knowing  and  caring  little  about 
the  matter,  have  seldom  much  scruple  in  consulting  their 
own  comforts,  and  in  trying  to  conciliate  members,  by  the 
sacrifice  of  their  own  officer ;  who  cannot  defend  himself 
or  his  measure  as  an  independent  man,  but  must  speak  or 
be  silent  according  to  orders.  The  root  of  all  this  discord, 
vexation,  and  inefficiency,  lies  in  expecting  a  professional 
gentleman  not  only  to  conduct  affairs  to  which  he  has  been 
accustomed,  but  to  begin  to  act  suddenly  as  a  statesman, 
in  matters  to  which  he  is  necessarily  new.  This  might 
have  passed  formerly,  when  there  was  very  little  Scotch 
public  business,  and  the  people  were  nobody,  and  the  prin- 
ciple was,  no  change;  but  it  is  absurd  now.  It  has  long 
been  complained  of  by  the  people  of  this  country,  that  no 
attention  is  bestowed  on  Scotch  measures  by  Parliament. 
This  complaint  is  just.  The  evil  arises  partly  from  the 
ignorance  of  the  Houses  of  what  any  thing  Scotch  means, 
and  partly  from  their  indifference  about  any  thing  desired 
by  a  portion  of  the  empire  that  is  too  small  and  too  quiet 
to  create  alarm ;  but  still  more,  from  the  almost  osten- 
tatious disregard  by  government  of  matters  which,  at  the 
worst,  can  only  cause  a  small  and  momentary  mutiny  among 
fifty-three  not  loquacious  members.  The  only  remedy  is, 
the  appointment  of  some  person,  probably  holding  another 
office,  to  manage  the  general,  apart  from  the  legal,  affairs 
of  the  country,  avowedly  and  responsibly ;  or,  if  this  duty 
Q  21 


•2-1.-2  LIFE   OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

be  kept  upon  the  Lord-Advocate,  to  give  him  due  support, 
and  far  more  authority.  As  it  is,  if  an  eminent  lawyer, 
•without  parliamentary  ambition,  and  with  no  taste  for 
sweltering  in  London,  but  making  a  respectable  income,  and 
living  at  home  in  peace,  wishes  to  be  sleepless  all  night, 
and  hot  all  day,  and  not  half  so  useful  as  he  might  be,  let 
him  become  Lord- Advocate.  The  evil  is  aggravated  by' the 
consideration  that  the  performance  of  his  proper  duties 
alone,  while  it  would  give  ample  occupation,  would  be 
agreeable  and  important.  In  addition  to  his  being  the 
legal  adviser  of  the  crown  and  of  government,  no  man  can 
be  idle  who  takes  the  management  of  our  whole  criminal 
business ;  provided  it  be  continued  to  be  managed  so  as  to 
exhibit  a  conclusive  precedent,  and  a  model,  for  taking  the 
duty  of  penal  prosecution  out  of  the  hands  of  inferior  offi- 
cers and  interested  private  parties,  and  committing  it  to 
the  charge  of  a  high  and  responsible  public  accuser.  In 
August,  1842,  Jeffrey  had  a  conference  with  the  late  Earl 
Grey,  then  Prime  Minister,  in  which,  as  Jeffrey  states  it, 
his  lordship  "  promised  to  make  some  arrangement  for  re- 
lieving my  office  of  a  great  part  of  its  political  duties,  and 
reducing  it  to  its  true  legal  character,  and  something  is 
even  in  progress  for  the  practical  accomplishment  of  this." 
But  to  this  hour  nothing  has  been  done. 

He  was  of  opinion  that,  in  the  particular  circumstances 
of  the  Scotch  Bar;  where  there  are  few  official  honours,  the 
situations  of  Dean  and  of  Lord- Advocate,  or  Solicitor-gene- 
ral, should  not  be  monopolized  by  one  person.  Acting  on 
this  principle,  he  resigned  the  deanship — which  on  the  17th 
of  December,  1831,  was  conferred  on  Mr.  Hope,  who  had 
BO  handsomely  forgone  his  claim  on  the  previous  vacancy. 

Jeffrey  was  fortunate  in  this,  that  when  he  came  upon 
the  parliamentary  stage,  he  was  not,  at  first,  distracted  by 
variety  or  perplexity  of  objects.  For  upwards  of  fifty  years 
the  Whig  party  in  Scotland  had,  without  one  moment's 
diversity  or  relaxation,  been  demanding  parliamentary  and 


LORD-ADVOCATE.    •  243 

burgh  reform,  as  the  two  definite  things  that  for  this  coun- 
try were  all  in  all.  By  the  first,  they  meant  that,  under 
whatever  safeguards,  the  constitutional  principle  of  popular 
representation  should  be  extended  to  Scotland ;  by  the 
second,  that  an  end  should  be  put  to  the  insulting  absurdi- 
ty of  all  town-councils  being  self-elected.  These  were  also 
English  objects — in  the  wake  of  which  the  Scotch  ones 
were  sure  to  follow ;  but  the  Scotch  cases  were  infinitely 
stronger.  Putting  down  these  two  evils  was  essential  and 
preliminary  to  any  good  whatever  being  done  to  this  coun- 
try. Though  the  new  Lord- Advocate,  therefore,  had  soon 
no  want  of  lesser  projects  and  distractions,  these  were  the 
two  forts  that  had  first  to  be  gained. 

Hence,  though  scarcely  any  Lord- Advocate  had  entered 
public  life  in  a  more  important  or  hazardous  season,  there 
have  been  few  whose  official  proceedings  it  is  less  necessary 
to  follow.  He  was  only  in  office  about  three  years  and  a 
half,  and  it  took  nearly  the  whole  of  that  time  to  get  these 
two  measures  carried.  Their  adjustment  to  Scotland  pre- 
sented its  own  difficulties,  and  gave  rise  to  its  own  discus- 
sions ;  but  such  details  are  unimportant  after  they  are 
settled ;  and  in  the  main  schemes  the  northern  part  of  the 
island  was  identified  with  the  southern.  The  principle  of 
reform  was  no  sooner  recognised  by  government  and  the 
legislature,  than  it  was  succeeded  by  its  practical  applica- 
tions— which  implied  a  plentiful  crop  of  proposals ;  but, 
though  within  the  first  projection  of  these  changes,  he  was 
withdrawn  before  he  could  become  officially  responsible  for 
their  success,  or  their  defeat.  No  important  improvement, 
therefore,  of  the  Lord- Advocate's  own,  did  or  could  dis- 
tinguish his  official  reign.  His  merit  resolves  into  the 
manner  in  which  he  managed  the  two  great  measures  that 
were  committed  in  a  certain  degree  to  his  charge  ;  and  this 
admits  of  no  explanation  that  could  be  interesting,  or  per- 
haps even  intelligible,  to  those  who  were  not  engaged  in 
the  conflict. 


- -i  I  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY* 

Though  he  would  much  rather  have  stayed  at  home,  he 
had  never  any  aversion  to  a  visit  to  London.  He  hud 
many  friends  there  in  all  classes,  among  whom  he  was  very 
popular ;  and  he  delighted  to  whet  his  intellect  against  the 
great  intellects  of  the  capital,  and  to  observe  the  varied 
society  to  which  his  reputation  and  his  conversational 
powers  introduced  him.  Whenever  he  was  there,  he  wrote 
to  me  almost  daily,  owing  partly  to  my  being  solicitor- 
general  under  him.  These  letters  contain  lively  accounts 
of  all  his  proceedings  and  feelings.  The  interesting  per- 
sons he  met  with — his  social  parties — his  occasional  re- 
treats to  the  country — every  shadow  of  change  in  public 
affairs— striking  parliamentary  occurrences  and  speeches — 
the  whole  incidents  of  the  London  scene — are  given  with 
a  vivacity  and  talent  which  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu  might 
have  envied.  But  these  communications  can  be  only  very 
sparingly  disclosed.  They  have  already,  in  many  places, 
become  immaterial  and  obscure  ;  in  others  they  touch/living 
individuals ;  and  in  many,  and  these  the  most  valuable, 
they  imply  confidence.  But  in  so  far  as  they  are  merely 
personal,  they  enable  me  to  let  him  describe  those  per- 
sonal occurrences  himself,  with  which  alone  I  have  now  to 
deal. 

Within  a  few  weeks  after  his  elevation,  he  was  returned 
member  for  what  were  termed  the  Forf.irshire  Burghs ;  on 
which  occasion  he  had  the  honour  of  being  pelted  by  what 
he  calls  "  The  brutes  of  Forfar,"  being  a  gang  of  black- 
guards who  thought  that  this  was  a  good  way  of  promoting 
the  cause  of  his  opponent.  But  there  was  a  flaw  in  the 
proceedings  which  soon  unseated  him.  He  had  only  got 
the  return  by  the  vote  of  the  Dundee  delegate,  and  this 
burgh  having  been  previously  disfranchised,  it  was  ulti- 
mately decided  that  it  had  no  right  to  vote.  But  as  the 
judgment  of  disfranchisement  was  under  appeal,  he  was 
advised  to  take  his  seat  till  the  appeal  should  be  disposed  of. 

And  so  he  was  in  office,  and  in  Parliament.     "  I  come 


SPEECH    ON   THE    REFORM    BILL.  245 

into  public  life  in  stormy  weather,  and  under  no  very  en- 
viable auspices,  except  that  our  cause,  and  our  meaning, 
are  good." — (To  Richardson,  27th  July,  1831.) 

The  Reform  Bill  was  propounded  on  the  1st  of  March, 
1831.  Three  days  thereafter  he  made  his  first  speech. 
«•  I  have  proposed  to  speak  twice,  but  could  never  get  in. 
I  think  I  must  to-night.  But  not  a  word  has  yet  been 
said  as  to  Scotland,  nor  do  I  think  the  House  would  bear 
three  sentences  on  that  insignificant  subject.  I  must  there- 
fore go  into  the  general  question." — (To  me,  4th  March, 
1831.)  He  did  so  in  a  speech,  of  which  Mackintosh  says, 
"Macaulay  and  Stanley  have  made  two  of  the  finest 
speeches  ever  spoken  in  "Parliament.  Jeffrey's,  though 
not  quite  so  debating  and  parliamentary,  was  quite  as  re- 
markable for  argument  and  eloquence.  No  man  of  fifty- 
five*  ever  began  a  new  career  so  well." — (Memoirs,  ii.  479.) 
This  speech  was  published  immediately  afterward,  at  the 
special  request  of  government,  and  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion on  those  who  really  wished  to  understand  the  question. 
It  is  certainly  general,  and  too  much  ab'ove  the  common 
grapple  of  parliamentary  contention  ;  but  out  of  the  whole 
speeches  that  were  delivered  throughout  the  two  years 
that  the  question  was  discussed,  no  better  argument  in 
favour  of  the  principle  and  necessity  of  the  measure,  on 
its  general  grounds,  is  extractable.  Still,  as  a  debating 
speech,  it  fell  below  the  expectations  both  of  his  friends 
and  of  himself;  and  the  chief  cause  to  which  he  used  to 
ascribe  the  disappointment,  was  his  constant  dread,  on  his 
throat's  account,  of  the  physical  effort  of  speaking. 

On  the  17th  of  March,  the  House  of  Lords  affirmed  the 
judgment  disfranchising  Dundee,  and  this  left  him  little 
chance  with  the  committee.  "  The  Chancellor  has  affirmed 
Dundee.  So  that  card  is  lost,  and  we  are  all  the  worse 
for  the  committee.  I  think  things  look  ominous  on  tho 

*  He  should  have  said  above  fifty-so.ven. 


246  LIFE   OF   LORD    JEFFREY. 

•whole  with  me ;  and  I  have  little  other  comfort  than  that 
I  always  anticipated  a  bad  result,  and  went  into  the  mat- 
ter deliberately,  and  with  my  mind  made  up  to  the  worst. 
I  only  hope  I  shall  not  be  found  frivolous,  and  vexatious, 
and  saddled  with  the  enemy's  costs,  and  that  I  shall  escape 
disqualification  by  bribery." — (To  me,  17th  March,  1834.) 
He  soon  struck  his  colours,  and  was  unseSted.  «  Ruther- 
furd,  I  believe,  has  told  you  the  tragic  history  of  my  com- 
mittee. I  bear  the  result,  as  I  am  bound  to  do,  manfully; 
chiefly,  I  believe,  because  I  foresaw  the „ likelihood  of  it 
from  the  hour  that  I  first  entered  on  my  canvass",  and 
have  never  much  expected  any  thing  else.  It  is  plain, 
however,  that  it  will  never  do  to  make  a  poor  Scotch  law- 
yer pay  his  own  way  into  parliament  three  times  in  one 
year."— (To  me,  28th  March,  1831.) 

Lord  Fitzwilliam  let  him  have  his  burgh  of  Malton  ;  for 
which  he  was  elected  on  the  6th  of  April.  His  journey 
there  was  without  Mrs.  Jeffrey  and  his  daughter,  and  there- 
fore it  seems  to  have  made  him  pensive.  "  Here  I  am, 
near  halfway  to  Edinburgh,  and  yet  not  on  my  way  to 
Edinburgh !  Oh !  this  lovely  view  on  the  home  road 
brings  that  home  so  painfully  before  me,  and  gives  such  a 
pull  at  the  heart,  that  it  requires  all  admonitions  of  duty 
and  ambition,  and  every  thing,  to  prevent  me  from  running 
on  desperately  down  a  steep  place,  and  landing  at  Craig- 
orook.  I  left  town  yesterday  early,  and  got  to  Lord  Mil- 
ton's to  dinner,  where  I  stayed  till  this  morning ;  a  very 
fine  old  place,  and  a  most  agreeable  family  of  the  quiet, 
natural,  benevolent  English  aristocracy.  I  am  afraid  we 
have  nothing  of  the  sort  in  Scotland,  and  yet  in  England 
I  could  rather  say  it  is  the  most  common  character  of  the 
first  rank.  I  am  on  my  road,  you  are  aware,  for  Malton, 
where  I  shall  be  at  mid-day  to-morrow  ;  and  I  hope  elected 
on  Wednesday  or  Thursday.  I  must  actually  visit  six  hun- 
dred people,  it  seems,  and  go  to  the  open  market-place  on 
a  staid  horse,  and  make  a  discourse  from  the  saddle,  under 


DISSOLUTION    OF    PARLIAMENT.  247 

the  canopy  of  heaven,  rain  or  fair  weather.  This  is 
penalty  enough,  I  think,  without  having  to  pay  .£500  for 
feeding  this  punctilious  constituency."  "  It  has  been  a 
long  lonely  day,  and  I  feel  something  desolate  in  the  soli- 
tude of  mine  inn.  It  was  very  bright  and  cheery,  however, 
and  the  green  hedges  and  fields  full  of  bleating  lambs 
were  soothing  after  the  long  fever  of  London.  I  have  not 
had  so  much  time  to  recollect  myself  since  I  left  home.** — 
(To  me,  Ferrybridge,  5th  April,  1831.) 

He  was  elected  on  the  6th  of  April,  but  within  a  fortnight 
Parliament  was  dissolved.  This  event  was  the  consequence 
of  ministers,  after  a  debate  of  two  nights,  being  in  a  mino- 
rity of  about  eight,  on  a  motion  by  General  Gascoigne,  that 
the  number  of  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  be 
not  diminished.  Jeffrey  never  spoke  so  indignantly  as  he 
did  against  the  conduct  of  most  of  the  Scotch  members  on 
this  occasion.  If  the  then  existing  number  of  the  members 
could  not  be  diminished,  no  more  members  could  be  gained 
for  Scotland  or  Ireland ;  and  the  representatives  of  these 
countries  were  warned  "  emphatically"  by  government,  that, 
by  supporting  this -motion  they  extinguished  all  hope  of  ob- 
taining their  additional  members.  "  Ireland  (Jeffrey  writes) 
was  far  more  true  to  duty,"  but  the  opposition  Scotch  mem- 
bers all  voted  for  the  motion,  "  and  in  fact  decided  the 
question."  The  view  of  these  persons  was,  that  throwing 
the  Reform  Bill  out,  was,  in  their  opinion,  more  important 
than  obtaining  more  members  for  Scotland,  and  this  does 
not  seem  very  unreasonable.  But  Jeffrey  is  anxious  that 
their  "  unspeakable  baseness  should  be  known  and  pro- 
claimed in  Scotland ;"  and  I  mention  this  as  almost  the 
solitary,  but  rather  a  refreshing  exception  to  the  usual 
gentleness  of  his  political  malediction. 

After  mentioning  the  plots  and  speculations  connected 
with  the  sudden  close  of  the  attempt  to  work  reform  out 
of  the  unreformed  Parliament,  he  says  :  "  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful, rosy,  dead  cairn  morning,  when  we  broke  up  a  little 


248  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

before  five  to-day ;  and  I  took  three  pensive  turns  along 
the  solitude  of  Westminster  Bridge ;  admiring  the  sharp 
clearness  of  St.  Paul's,  and  all  the  city  spires  soaring  up 
in  a  cloudless  sky,  the  orange  red  light  that  was  beginning 
to  play  on  the  trees  of  the  Abbey,  and  the  old  windows  of 
the  speaker's  house,  and  the  flat,  green  mist  of  the  river 
floating  upon  a  few  lazy  hulks  on  the  tide,  and  moving  low 
urifler  the  arches.  It  was  a  curious  contrast  with  the  long 
previous  imprisonment  in  the  stifling  roaring  House,  amidst 
dying  candles,  and  every  sort  of  exhalation." — (To  Mr. 
Thos.  Thomson,  20th  April,  1831.) 

Parliament  was  prorogued  on  the  22d  of  April,  "  after  a 
scene  of  bellowing,  and  roaring,  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  on 
the  part  of  the  adversary,  in  both  Houses,  which  it  was 
almost  frightful  to  look  at,"  and  next  day  it  was  dissolved. 

He  was  naturally  ambitious  to  represent  his  native  city. 
But  believing  it  to  be  hopeless  under  the  system  then  ex- 
isting, he  would  not  have  made  the  attempt,  had  it  not 
been  that,  without  his  knowledge,  a  canvass  was  beguiv  for 
him,  which  he  did  not  think  it  proper  to  resist.  Its  result 
was  perfectly  descriptive  of  what  was  formerly  called  elec- 
tion in  this  country.  His  opponent  was  a  very  respectable 
gentleman  called  Dundas,  in  whose  favour,  however,  I  be- 
lieve that  no  body  beyond  the  town-council,  came  -publicly 
forward.  Almost  all  the  public  bodies  petitioned  the  coun- 
cil in  favour  of  Jeffrey,  and  a  petition  to  the  same  effect 
was  voted  at  a  public  meeting  of  the  inhabitants,  on  a 
Saturday,  about  three  o'clock  ;  which  petition  was  signed 
by  next  Monday  evening  by  about  17,400  persons.  Oa 
the  succeeding  day,  being  Tuesday,  the  3d  of  May,  1831, 
the  thirty-one  or  thirty-two  individuals  composing  the 
town-council  met  in  a  room,  to  choose  the  member.  They 
began  by  reading  all  these  applications ;  and  then,  by  a 
majority  of  seventeen  to  fourteen,  elected  Mr.  Dundas. 
This  was  the  last  general  election  at  which  any  Scotch 
town-council  had  it  in  its  power  to  perform  the  elective  farce. 


THE    REFORM    BILL.  249 

He  was  chosen  for  Malton  again  toward  the  beginning 
of  June. 

Being  blamed,  a  little  after  this,  by  some  who  did  not 
duly  consider  his  situation,  for  want  of  decision,  and  for 
conceding  too  much  to  artful  opponents,  he  defended  him- 
self by  saying,  "  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  hints  as.  to  my 
infirmities.  You  might  have  made  them  twice  as  bad  with 
perfect  safety.  I  am  rather  afraid  to  promise  amendment, 
but  I  boldly  promise  never  to  be  moved  to  any  thing  but 
gratitude  by  having  the  course  of  amendment  pointed  out 
to  me."  "When  the  decision  rests  with  myself,  I  ought 
probably  to  be  more  prompt  and  decided.  But  when  I 
have  in  substance  only  to  propose  and  report  for  others,  I 
rather  think  that  I  ought  to  hear  all,  and  discuss  with  all. 
And  I  know  that  many  people  have  complained  that  I  do 
not  discuss  enough,  and  that  I  am  too  peremptory  and  in- 
tractable, and  I  have  even  received  hints  to  this  effect  from 
the  minority,  to  whom  the  dissatisfied  have  carried  their 

supplications."  "It  is  very  well  for  you  and to 

say  that  you  adhere  to  the  original  arrangement  of  the 
bill,  and  that  all  the  objections  to  it  are  nonsense.  I  must 
hear  and  discuss  all  those  objections,  and  I  cannot  say  to 
the  minority  that  they  are  nonsense,  for  they  are  very 
much  moved  by  them,  and  want  me  to  obviate  them  by 
more  decisive  arguments  than  can  always  be  produced." — 
(To  me,  23d  June,  1831.) 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  the  scold  was  not  ill  deserved. 
His  own  constant  sincerity  and  reasonableness  made  him 
always  incredulous  of  the  opposite  qualities  in  others  ;  and 
hence  his  having  more  charity  for  cunning  enemies  than 
toleration  for  honest  friends,  was  an  infirmity  that  too  often 
beset  him. 

On  the  1st  of  July,  1831,  he  brought  in  the  Scotch 
Reform  Bill,  "  with  a  very  few  words  of  explanation.  1 
was  strictly  enjoined  to  avoid  going  into  any  discussion, 
and  indeed  had  a  written  order  from  - —  -  to  move  for 


250  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

leave  without  saying  a  single  word." — (To  me,  2d  July, 
1831.) 

Politically  the  two  bills  were  the  same.  They  differed 
only  in  phraseology  and  machinery.  But  there  was  a  short 
period  during  the  preparation  of  the  Scotch  one,  when  there 
was  an  imagination  of  making  our  franchise  higher  by  five, 
or  even  by  ten  pounds  than  that  for  England,  which  wa.s 
supported  by  some  of  the  leading  reformers  in  this  country, 
and  a  fifteen-pound  franchise  had,  at  one  time,  the  coun- 
tenance even  of  the  Lord-Advocate.  This  was  not  because 
he  or  they  thought  the  English  ten-pound  qualification  too 
low ;  but  because  they  thought  that  raising  it  for  Scotland 
would  facilitate  the  passing  of  the  Scotch  bill,  and  that,  for 
this  country,  a  fifty,  or  even  a  hundred-pound  franchise 
was  at  least  better  than  none.  They  were  wrong  even  in 
this  view,  which  was  vehemently  resisted  by  others,  and  by 
none  with  more  effective  vigour  than  by  Sir  John  II.  Dal- 
rymple  ;*  and  government  settled  the  matter  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  the  franchise  must,  in  this  respect,  be  the  same 
in  both  kingdoms. 

Giving  an  account  of  the  second  night's  debate  on  the 
second  reading  of  the  English  bill,  he  says :  "  No  division 
last  night,  as  I  predicted,  and  not  a  very  striking  debate. 
A  curious  series  of  prepared  speeches,  by  men  who  do  not 
speak  regularly,  and  far  better  expressed  than  nine-tenths 
of  the  good  speeches,  but  languid  and  inefficient  from  the 
air  of  preparation,  and  the  want  of  nature  and  authority 
with  which  they  were  spoken.  There  was  but  one  excep- 
tion, and  it  was  a  brilliant  one.  I  mean  Macaulay,  who 
surpassed  his  former  appearance  in  closeness,  fire,  and 
vigour,  and  very  much  improved  the  effect  of  it  by  a  more 
steady  and  graceful  delivery.  It  was  prodigiously  cheered, 
as  it  deserved,  and  I  think  puta  him  clearly  at  the  head  of 
the  great  speakers,  if  not  the  debaters,  of  the  House." 

*  Now  Earl  of  Stair. 


WORDSWOKTH.  251 

« I  once  meant  to  have  said  something,  but  I  now  think  it 
impossible.  Besides,  Mackintosh  and  Macaulay  have 
taken  all  my  ideas,  and  I  cannot  stoop  to  reclaim  them ; 
but  we  shall  see.  It  is  very  hot,  though  very  beautiful ; 
and  would  be  the  most  delicious  weather  in  the  world  at 
Craigcrook,  or  Loch  Lomond,  to  which  last  region  I  wan- 
der oftenest  in  my  dreams.  We  have  not  been  very  dissi- 
pated lately.  We  were  at  a  grand  party  at  the  Staffords' 
the  other  night,  and  I  have  had  two  or  three  more  cabinet 
dinners.  The  most  agreeable  are  Lord  Grey's,  where 
there  are  always  ladies,  and  we  were  very  gay  there  last 
Sunday.  I  am  still  as  much  in  love  with  Althorpe  and 
most  of  his  colleagues  as  ever,  and  feel  proud  and  delighted 
with  their  frankness,  cheerfulness,  and  sweet-blooded  cou- 
rage."—(To  me,  6th  July,  1831.) 

He  frequently  met  with  Mr.  Wordsworth  this  spring ; 
and  as  some  people  fancy  that  he  had  a  rude  unkindness 
toward  all  the  Lakers,  it  is  proper  to  mention  that  Words- 
worth and  he,  whenever  they  happened  to  be  in  each 
other's  company,  were  apparently  friends.  There  was  cer- 
tainly no  want  of  friendly  feeling  on  Jeffrey's  part ;  nor, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  on  Mr.  Wordsworth's,  though  possibly  it 
was  somewhat  chilled  by  the  recollection  of  what  he  may 
have  supposed  to  be  past  injustice.  But  if  he  had  any 
such  thoughts,  he  had  too  much  kindness  and  politeness  to 
show  them.  In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Echersall,  (27th  March, 
1831,)  Jeffrey  says  :  "  I  dined  yesterday  at  Mackintosh's, 
with  Wordsworth,  the  poet,  and  Shiel,  the  Irish  orator, 
and  several  other  remarkable  persons.  Wordsworth  and  I 
were  great  friends.  He  and  Empson  and  I  stayed  two  good 
hours  after  everybody  else  had  gone,  and  did  not  come 
home  till  near  two."  Giving  an  account  of  the  same 
meeting  in  another  letter,  he  says  :  "  Did  I  tell  you  that  I 
met  Wordsworth  at  Mackintosh's  last  week,  and  talked 
with  him  in  a  party  of  four  till  two  in  the  morning  ?  He 
is  not  in  the  very  least  Lakish  now,  or  even  in  any  degree 


252  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

poetical,  but  rather  a  hard  and  a  sensible  worldly  sort  of 
a  man."— (To  me,  30th  March,  1831.) 

Nobody  seems  to  have  struck  him  with  such  admiration 
as  Lord  Althorpe.  "  There  is  something  to  me  quite  de- 
lightful in  his  calm,  clumsy,  courageous,  immutable  probity 
and  well-meaning,  and  it  seems  to  have  a  charm  for  every- 
body."—(To  me,  13th  February,  1831.) 

He  refreshed  himself  during  these  turmoils  by  as  many 
retreats  to  the  country  as  he  could  make.  "  I  am  just 
going  to  a  conference  with  Melbourne  at  the  Home  Office, 
which  has  forced  me  to  give  up  the  refreshment  of  a  rural 
day  at  Greenwich,  which  I  had  promised  myself,  and  for 
the  sake  of  which  I  had  declined  all  engagements  this 
Saturday.  But  he  has  maliciously  named  four  o'clock, 
and  cut  through  all  our  innocent  schemes.  These  are  the 
things  which  give  one  most  the  feeling  of  bondage." — (To 
me,  16th  July,  1831.) 

He  spoke  on  one  of  the  stages  of  the  bill  on  the  15th 
of  July,  1831.  "  I  spoke  a  little  last  night,  but  my  voice 
was  too  weak  for  so  full  and  stirring  a  House.  I  have 
always  said  that  I  was  most  afraid  of  that  infirmity ;  and 
unless  they  are  unusually  quiet,  I  am  aware  that  I  cannot 
make  myself  generally  heard ;  which  is  very  provoking." — 
(To  me,  16th  July,  1831.) 

In  September,  1831,  he  moved  the  second  reading  of  the 
Scotch  Bill  in  a  speech  which  I  heard,  and  I  was  not  struck 
with  any  vocal  deficiency ;  but  the  House,  to  be  sure,  was 
perfectly  quiet.  It  was  an  excellent  speech,  and  very  well 
received.  But  he  was  plainly  under  great  restraint,  and, 
except  in  sense  and  clearness,  it  was  little  calculated  to 
give  strangers  any  idea  of  his  powers. 

.  He  began  to  suffer  soon  after  this  from  an  attack,  which 
confined  him  for  several  weeks,  and  required  a  painful  ope- 
ration. »  Tell that  I  am  no  better,  but  that  I  bear 

my  sufferings  like  a  lamb,  though  I  cannot  help  bleating  a 
little  now  and  then.    I  have  lost  quantities  of  blood,  and  a 


UNWELL — WIMBLEDON.  253 

good  deal  of  flesh,  and  all  to  no  purpose,  and  have  come 
to  the  creed  that  continual  pain  is  a  far  worse  evil  than  a 
bad  conscience,  a  bad  character,  or  even  disappointment 
in  love ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  more  ideal  ills  of  a  bad 
government,  a  bad  climate,  or  an  empty  purse.  I  beg  the 
aid  of  your  prayers,  and  am  always  yours  affectionately." 
—(To  me,  3d  October,  1831.) 

Yet  even  in  this  situation,  his  humanity  alarmed  him 
for  the  consequences  of  the  bill  being  thrown  out  by  the 
Peers.  "  For  God's  sake  keep  the  people  quiet  in  Scot- 
land. I  have  written  edifying  letters  to  the  sheriffs  of  the 
manufacturing  counties,  and  some  additional  troops  have, 
on  my  earnest  request,  been  sent  among  us.  Nothing  in 
the  world  would  do  such  fatal  mischief  as  riot  and  violence, 
ending,  as  it  now  must  do,  in  lavish  bloodshed — from  which 
my  soul  recoils.  I  am  suffering  more  pain  than  I  could 
wish  to  an  anti-reformer."  "I  am  very  much  reduced  in 
flesh  and  strength ;  but  feeling  my  head  and  my  heart 
whole  enough  in  my  intervals  of  pain.  It  has  been  a 
sharp  martyrdom  ;  but  it  is  shabby  in  me  disturbing  my 
kind  friends  so  much  about  it,  and  the  expressions  in  your 
letter  make  me  almost  scorn  myself  for  distressing  you. 
It  is  far  more  cheering  to  me  to  think  of  you,  gay  and 
comfortable,  than  even  f*or  a  moment  sad  on  my  account." 
—(To  me,  15th  October,  1831.) 

Parliament  was  prorogued  on  the  20th  of  October ;  but 
he  was  too  ill  to  come  home,  and  in  the  beginning  of 
November  went  to  Wimbledon.  I  advised  him  to  apply 
his  leisure  on  various  Scotch  matters  which  seemed  to  re- 
quire legislation.  The  principal  of  these  were  the  Poor 
Law,  Education,  the  Law  of  Evidence,  and  the  Police.  He 
was  not  disposed,  however,  to  meddle  with  more  than  he 
had  already  on  hand — especially  "as  the  misfortune  is, 
that  government  will  not  take  the  trouble  to  understand 
any  thing  merely  Scotch,  and  is  therefore  never  cordial 
nor  resolute." — (1st  November,  1831.)  Every  one  of 

22 


254 


LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 


these   matters   has   been    operated   upon    by  Parliament 
since. 

"  I  am  delighted  with  this  place,  (Wimbledon.)  It  is  much 
colder  than  London,  but  dry  and  bright.  Fine  old  trees, 
skirting  a  bright  green  common,  in  tufts  and  masses  ;  some 
shining  ponds  glistening  in  the  turf;  a  boundless  horizon, 
with  the  Richmond  woods  on  one  side,  and  the  Surrey  hills 
on  the  other;  a  gay  but  quiet  village,  sinking  into  the 
wood,  and  a  garland  of  large  shady  villas  sweeping  in  a 
full  crescent  round  a  broad  bay  of  the  common ;  a  nice, 
dry,  airy  house ;  with  a  garden  of  smooth  turf  and  broad 
gravel  walks,  backed  up  with  evergreens,  and  thick  wood. 
I  have  brought  a  good  store  of  books,  and  read  with  vora- 
cious delight.  I  am  even  voracious  at  dinner ;  and  have 
my  carriage  and  horses.  In  short,  if  it  were  not  for  that 
old  pain,  which  is  the  devil  and  Satan,  I  should  be  very 
happy,  and  by  God's  grace  I  hope  to  get  the  mastery  over 
it  in  due  time.  Mrs.  J.  and  Charley  (his  daughter)  are  in 
ecstasy  at  having  at  last  escaped  from  that  stifling  noisy 
London ;  and  run  about  like  your  boys  at  Bonaly  in  the 
first  days  of  vacation." — (To  me,  4th  November,  1831.) 

Parliament  met  again  early  in  December.  On  the  17th 
of  that  month,  ministers  had  a  great  majority  on  the 
second  reading  of  the  bill.  "  The  debate  on  the  whole, 

was  not  interesting.     made  a  most  impertinent, 

unfair,  and  petulant  speech,  but  with  passages  of  great 
cleverness.  Macaulay  made,  I  think,  the  best  he  has 
yet  delivered ;  the  most  condensed  at  least,  and  with  the 
greatest  weight  of  matter.  It  contained  the  only  argu- 
ment, indeed,  to  which  any  of  the  speakers  who  followed 
him  applied  themselves.  There  was  a  very  running  fire 
of  small  calibres,  all  the  early  part  of  yesterday.  But 
there  were,  in  the  end,  three  remarkable  speeches, — first,  a 
mild,  clear,  authoritative  vindication  of  the  measure,  upon 
broad  grounds,  and  in  answer  to  general  imputations,  by 
Lord  John  Russell ;  delivered  with  a  louder  voice,  and  more 


DEBATE    ON    THE    REFORM    BILL.  255 

decided  manner  than  usual  with  him.  Next  a  magnificent, 
spirited,  and  most  eloquent  speech  by  Stanley — chiefly  in 
castigation  of ,  whom  he  trampled  in  the  dirt,  but  con- 
taining also  a  beautiful  and  spirited  vindication  of  the 
whole  principle  and  object  of  Reform.  This  was  by  far 
the  best  speech  I  have  heard  from  Stanley,  and  I  fancy 
much  the  best  he  has  ever  made.  It  was  the  best,  too,  I 
must  own,  in  the  debate  ;  for,  though  Macaulay's  was  more 
logical  and  full  of  thought,  this  was  more  easy,  spirited, 
and  graceful.  The  last  was  Peel's,  which,  though  remarka- 
ble, was  not  good,"  &c. — (To  me.)  ,N 

In  a  few  days  after  this  he  thought  himself  almost  suffi- 
ciently rewarded  for  having  taken  office,  by  the  power 
which  it  gave  him  of  obtaining  one  of  the  principal  clerk- 
ships in  the  Court  of  Session  for  George  Joseph  Bell.  He 
would  have  made  him  a  judge  if  there  had  been  a  vacancy; 
and  certainly  no  man  had  ever  a  stronger  claim,  so  far  as 
such  claims  depend  on  eminent  fitness,  than  Mr.  Bell  had 
for  a  seat  on  that  bench,  which  his  great  legal  work  had 
been  instructing  and  directing  for  above  thirty  years. 

Jeffrey  wrote  something  in  jest  to  Lord  Holland,  who 
was  going  to  visit  the  king  at  Brighton,  about  the  Scotch 
and  the  year  1745.  In  a  few  days  he  saw  his  lordship 
after  his  return.  "  He  says  he  won  five-and-sixpence  from 
the  king  at  cribbage,  and  was  sent  to  bed  at  eleven  o'clock. 
Can  you  conceive  any  thing  more  innocent  or  primitive  ? 
a  king  playing  eagerly  for  sixpences !  He  tells  me  he 
also  read  to  his  majesty  the  letter  I  wrote  him  about  a 
new  rebellion  in  Scotland,  if  the  bills  were  not  passed,  and 
with  very  good  effect.  The  king  condescended  to  observe 
that  there  was  a  Scotticism  in  the  letter,  viz :  the  use  of 
the  word  misgive  for  fail  or  miscarry,  which  I  do  not  think 
a  Scotticism  ;  but  who  will  dispute  with  a  king  ?  For  all 
this  we  are  not  easy." — (To  me,  2d  Feb.,  1882.) 

He  met  Talleyrand  at  Holland  House,  and  gives  this 
account  of  him  :  «  He  is  more  natural,  plain,  and  reason- 


256  LIFR   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

able,  than  I  had  expected ;  a  great  deal  of  the  repose  of 
high  breeding  and  old  age,  with  &  mild  and  benevolent  man- 
ner, and  great  calmness  of  speech,  rather  than  the  sharp, 
caustic,  cutting  speech  of  a  practised  utterer  of  bons  mots. 
He  spoke  a  great  deal  of  old  times  and  old  persons,  the 
court  of  Louis  XVI.  when  Dauphin,  his  coronation,  Vol- 
taire, Malsherbe,  Turgot ;  with  traditional  anecdotes  of 
Massillon  and  Bossuet,  and  many  women  of  these  days, 
whose  names  I  have  forgotten,  and  a  good  deal  of  diplo- 
matic anecdote,  altogether  very  pleasing  and  easy.  He 
did  not  eat  much,  nor  talk  much  about  eating,  except  only 
that  he  inquired  very  earnestly  into  the  nature  of  coclty- 
leekie,*  and  wished  much  to  know  whether  prunes  were 
essential.  He  settled  at  last  that  they  should  be  boiled  in 
the  soup,  but  not  brought  up  in  it.  He  drank  little  but 
iced  water."— (To  me,  5th  Feb.,  1832.) 

The  following  is  part  of  his  account  of  the  second  read- 
ing of  the  Reform  Bill  in  the  Lords,  (14th  April,  1832 :) 
"  As  I  did  not  get  to  bed  till  near  eight  this  morning,  (and 
was  out  again  at  eleven,)  after  fourteen  hours  starving  in 
the  Lords,  you  cannot  expect  a  long  or  a  lively  letter  from 
me.  You  will  see  we  had  a  majority  of  nine,  being  one 
more  than  anybody  can  account  for.  The  debate  was  not 
very  brilliant,  but  got,  in  its  latter  stage,  excessively  inte- 
resting. The  Chancellor,  more  tranquil  and  less  offensive 
than  usual,  but  not  at  all  languid,  and  in  very  good  voice 
throughout,  chiefly  correcting  false  representations,  dispel- 
ling vain  terrors,  and  arranging  and  soothing.  Lyndhurst's 
by  far  the  cleverest  and  most  dangerous  speech  against  us 
in  the  debate,  and  very  well  spoken.  Lord  Grey's  reply, 
on  the  whole,  admirable ;  in  tone  and  spirit  perfect,  and, 
considering  his  age  and  the  time,  really  astonishing.  He 
spoke  near  an  hour  and  a  half,  after  five  o'clock,  from  the 
kindling  dawn  into  full  sunlight,  and  I  think  with  great 

*  A  Scotch  soup. 


LORDS'  DEBATE  ON  THE  REFORM  BILL.      257 

effect.  The  aspect  of  the  House  was  very  striking  through 
the  whole  night,  very  full,  and,  on  the  whole,  still  and 
solemn,  (but  for  the  row  with  Durham  and  Phillpots,  which 
ended  in  the  merited  exposure  of  the  latter.)  The  whole 
throne  and  the  space  around  it  clustered  over  with  100 
members  of  our  House,  and  the  space  below  the  bar  (which, 
since  the  galleries  which  are  constructed  over  the  grand 
entrance,  is  also  left  entirely  for  us)  nearly  filled  with  200 
more,  ranged  in  a  standing  row  of  three  deep  along  the 
bar,  another  sitting  on  the  ground  against  the  wall,  and 
the  space  between  covered  with  moving  and  sitting  figures 
in  all  directions,  with  twenty  or  thirty  clambering  on  the 
railings,  and  perched  up  by  the  doorways.  Between  four 
and  five,  when  the  daylight  began  to  shed  its  blue  beams 
across  the  red  candlelight,  the  scene  was  very  picturesque, 
from  the  singular  grouping  of  forty  or  fifty  of  us  sprawling  on 
the  floor,  awake  and  asleep,  in  all  imaginable  attitudes,  and 
with  all  sorts  of  expressions  and  wrappings.  '  Young  Cad- 
boll,'  who  chose  to  try  how  he  could  sleep  standing,  jammed 
in  a  corner,  fell  flat  down  over  two  prostrate  Irishmen  on 
the  floor,  with  a  noise  that  made  us  all  start,  but  no  mis- 
chief was  done.  The  candles  had  been  renewed  before 
dawn,  and  blazed  on  after  the  sun  came  fairly  in  at  the 
high  windows,  and  produced  a  strange,  but  rather  grand 
effect  on  the  red  draperies  and  furniture,  and  dusky  tapes- 
try on  the  walls.  Heaven  knows  what  will  become  of  it." 
(To  me,  14th  April,  1832.) 

The  bill  was  thrown  out  by  the  Peers  in  May.  This  led 
to  a- resignation  of  ministry,  which  was  thus  announced  to 
me,  (9th  May,  1832:)  "Well,  my  dear  C.,we  are  all  out! 
and  so  ends  the  first  act  of  our  comedy.  God  grant  that 
it  may  not  fall  too  soon  into  the  tragic  vein.  The  fact  is  not 
generally  known  yet,  (I  am  now  writing  to  you  about  noon ;) 
but  it  is  surmised,  and  before  six  o'clock  it  will  be  an- 
nounced in  Parliament.  I  went  to  Althorpe  at  ten  o'clock 
to  ask,  and  had  a  characteristic  scene  with  that  most  honest, 
R  22* 


258  LIFE   OF  LORD   JEFFREY. 

frank,  true,  and  stout-hearted  of  all  God's  creatures.  lie 
had  not  come  down-stairs,  and  I  was  led  up  to  his  dressing- 
room,  where  I  found  him  sitting  on  a  stool,  in  a  dark  duffle 
dressing-gown,  with  his  arms  (very  rough  and  hairy)  bare 
above  the  elbows,  and  his  beard  half  shaved,  and  half 
staring  through  the  lather,  with  a  desperate  razor  in  one 
hand,  and  a  great  soap-brush  in  the  other.  He  gave  me 
the  loose  finger  of  the  brush  hand,  and  with  the  usual  twin- 
kle of  his  bright  eye  and  radiant  smile,  he  said :  <  You 
need  not  be  anxious  about  your  Scotch  bill  for  to-night,  for 
I  have  the  pleasure  to  tell  you,  we  are  no  longer  his  Ma- 
jesty's Ministers.'  It  is  idle  to  speculate  on  the  coming 
events ;  though  events  will  come,  and  offences  too,  and  wo 
most  probably  to  those  through  whom  they  come.  Nor  is 
it  much  wiser  to  look  backward  now,  except  for  the  conso- 
lation of  not  having,  at  all  events,  been  shabby  or  merce- 
nary, and  the  other  comfort  (for  it  is  really  one  now)  of 
never  having  been  sanguine.  In  the  mean  time,  do 
what  you  can  to  keep  peace,  and  with  your  last  official 
breath  exhort  and  conjure  lovers  of  liberty  to  be  lovers  of 
order  and  tolerance.  I  tremble  for  Scotland,  and  think 
there  is  greater  hazard  there  than  in  any  other  quarter." 

In  this  horror  of  popular  commotion,  and  anticipating 
the  formation  of  a  government  resolved  to  dissolve,  and 
not  to  reform,  he  draws  the  following  picture :  "  It  will 
only  require  twelve  or  fifteen  desperate  men  to  be  got  to- 
gether in  a  room — a  Chancellor  and  Home  Secretary  to  be 
Created — a  commission  made  for  proroguing  Parliament  at 
two  o'clock,  and  a  proclamation  for  dissolving  it  for  the 
Evening  Gazette — an  insulting  answer  proposed  to  the  ad- 
dress of  the  Commons — and  the  country  is  on  fire  before 
Sunday  morning ;  ay — inextinguishable  fire,  though  blood 
should  be  poured  out  on  it  like  water  !  Then  would  follow 
the  dispersion  of  unions  and  meetings,  and  petitions  by 
soldiery;  and  vindictive  burnings;  and  massacres  of  anti- 
reformers,  in  all  the  manufacturing  districts ;  and  summary 


.     LORD   ALTHORPE.  259 

arrests  of  men  accused  of  sedition  and  treason  ;  and  shoals 
of  persecutions  for  libels,  followed  by  triumphant  acquit- 
tals, and  elections  carried  through  amidst  sanguinary 
tumults,  and  finally,  a  House  of  Commons  returned  to  put 
down  that  brutal  administration,  but  too  late  to  stay  the 
torrent  it  had  created.  There  is  a  scene  for  you ! !" — (To 
me,  17th  May,  1832.) 

To  those  who  think  the  loss  of  political  power  the  great- 
est of  all  misfortunes,  the  following  account  of  one  man's 
resignation  under  that  calamity  may  be  useful :  "  Lord 
Althorpe  has  gone  through  all  this  with  his  characteristic 
cheerfulness  and  courage.  The  day  after  the  resignation 
he  spent  in  a  great  sale  garden,  choosing  and  buying  flow- 
ers, and  came  home  with  five  great  packages  in  his  carriage, 
devoting  the  evening  to  studying  where  they  should  be 
planted  in  his  garden  at  Althorpe,  and  writing  directions 
and  drawing  plans  for  their  arrangement.  And  when  they 
came  to  summon  him  to  a  council  on  the  duke's  giving  in, 
he  was  found  in  a  closet  with  a  groom,  busy  oiling  the  locks 
of  his  fowling-pieces,  and  lamenting  the  decay  into  which 
they  had  fallen  during  his  ministry." — (To  me,  21st  May, 
1832'.) 

Ministry  being  replaced  within  a  week,  he  proceeded 
with  the  Scotch  bill ;  but  "  my  reason  for  speaking  little 
is,  that  I  have  no  voice  to  insure  a  hearing  ;  and,  to-day, 
I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  worse  than  usual,  which,  as  I 
must  go  on  with  my  Reform  Bill,  is  very  provoking." — 
(21st  May,  1832.)  However,  it  seems  that  no  voice  was 
quite  sufficient,  because  "  Lord  Althorpe  desired  me  to  say 
nothing  at  moving  (the  second  reading),  and,  as  there  was 
to  be  no  division,  he  said  it  was  not  regular  to  reply." — 
(22d  May,  1832.) 

A  personal,  and  political,  and  w ell- qu alified  friend  of  his 
own  being  a  candidate  for  a  chair  in  one  of  our  colleges, 

he  says,  (4th  June,  1832:)  "Unless  sends  good 

medical  credentials,  he  certainly  will  not  be  appointed      I 


260  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

have  had  some  talk  with  Lord  Melbourne  about  it,  who 
says,  that  to  job  a  teaching  chair  in  a  great  medical  school 
would  be  disgraceful,  and  that  he  will  not  give  it  to  any 
man  because  he  is  a  Whig,  unless  he  be  the  best,  or  among 
the  best,  in  all  respects ;  and  who  shall  say  otherwise  ?" 

The  Scotch  bill  passed  the  Commons  about  midnight  on 
the  27th  of  June,  1832. 

This  did  not  end  his  anxieties,  but  it  greatly  relieved 
them.  It  left  little  beyond  the  general  principles  of  the 
measure  to  be  discussed,  and  this  was  virtually  settled  by 
the  English  case ;  though  there  were  some  persons,  and 
even  in  high  places,  who  wished  to  protract  the  struggle, 
on  the  curious  ground,  that  though  the  representation  of 
England  had  been  reformed,  that  of  Scotland  had  better 
continue  as  it  was.  But  this  could  not  disturb  him,  and 
the  intrigues,  and  discussions,  and  wranglings  that  had 
agitated  the  preceding  eight  months,  were  virtually  at  an 
end.  Being  the  official  manager  of  the  measure,  he,  like 
every  one  else  in  that  position,  had  to  resist  the  most  op- 
posite proposals,  both  from  friendly  and  from  hostile  quar- 
ters, and  was  blamed  accordingly.  For  example,  he  was 
loudly  condemned  for  leaving  each  of  the  two  adjoining 
shires  of  Peebles  and  Selkirk,  one  with  about  12,000,  and 
the  other  with  about  8000  inhabitants,  with  a  member,  and 
for  giving  only  one  member  to  Orkney  and  Shetland  joint- 
ly, these  two  islands  being  separated  by  one  hundred  miles 
of  tempestuous  sea,  and  the  people  in  each  amounting  to 
above  thirty  thousand.  And  still  more  wildly  was  he 
attacked  for  having  introduced  a  members'  qualification 
clause,  which  was  a  novelty  in  this  country,  into  the  Scotch 
bill.  But  the  truth  is,  and  this  was  explained,  uselessly  at 
the  time,  that  he  opposed  all  these  provisions.  The  quali- 
fication clause,  indeed,  which  at  first  applied  to  towns  as 
well  as  shires,  he  resisted  almost  to  the  extent  of  resigning; 
and  when  this  part  of  the  statute  was  altered,  Lord  Al- 
thorpe  stated  in  the  House,  that  "he  took  blame  to  himself 


SCOTCH  BILL  PASSED.  261 

for  not  having  had  more  regard  to  the  advice  and  media- 
tion of  the  Lord- Advocate."  Many  similar  examples  might 
be  given.*  They  are  common  to  all  men  in  his  position. 

His  reflections  on  getting  the  measure  through  the  Com- 
mons were  these :  "  It  is  odd  how  strangely  I  felt  as  I 
walked  home  alone  last  night  after  all  was  over.  Instead 
of  being  elated  or  relieved,  I  could  not  help  feeling  a  deep 
depression  and  sadness,  and  I  rather  think  I  dropped  a 
tear  or  two,  as  I  paused  to  interrogate  my  own  feelings  in 
St.  James's  Square.  I  cannot  very  well  explain  this,  but  a 
sense  of  the  littleness  and  vanity  even  of  those  great  con- 
tentions was  uppermost  in  my  mind.  I  have  ever  since 
had  a  most  intense  longing  to  get  home,  and  when  so  many 
of  my  fellow  members  now  think  themselves  free,  and  are 
preparing  to  set  off  to-morrow  or  next  day,  it  seems  pe- 
culiarly hard  on  me  to  be  chained  for  two  or  three  weeks 
longer.  I  trust,  however,  it  will  be  no  more,  and  then  I 
shall  have  some  summer  to  enjoy  yet.  I  hunger  and  thirst 
for  another  view  of  Loch  Lomond  and  my  Highlands,  and 
hope  to  meet  you  at  Glenfinnartf  befofe  grouse  has  become 
common.  Do  for  me  what  you  can  with  the  citizens,  and 
let  me  know  what  is  wanted  on  my  part." — (To  me,  28th 
June,  1832.) 

The  bill  passed  the  Lords  on  the  12th  of  July.  On 
coming  from  a  long  night's  work  in  the  Commons  that  day, 
this  scene  was  presented :  "  It  was  a  most  lovely,  warm, 
rosy,  dead  calm  morning,  when  we  broke  up ;  and  the  per- 
fect reflection  of  all  the  towers  and  trees  on  the  water,  with 
the  fresh,  crisp  solidity  of  the  unmoving  foliage  in  that 
glorious  metallic  light,  made  up  a  magnificent  scene." — 
(To  me,  13th  July,  1832.) 

At  the  eleventh  hour,  and  when  on  the  very  eve  of  the 

*  A  Scandinavian  put  forth  a  fierce  pamphlet  which  seemed  to  be  di- 
rected chiefly  against  the  atrocity  of  his  native  Shetland  being  called 
Zetland  in  the  bill. 

f  Where  Lord  Fullerton  was  living. 


262  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

royal  assent,  his  patience  was  severely  tried  by  the  fancied 
discoveries  of  eager  and  captious  friends,  who  pretended  to 
groan  over  the  bill,  and  to  predict  its  entire  failure,  because 
their  new  and  confident  nonsense  had  not  been  foreseen 
and  provided  against.  "  Certainly  there  is  an  alacrity  in 
fault-finding  among  some  of  our  friends,  which,  but  for  the 
actual  experience  of  it,  I  should  not  have  thought  possible; 
and  then  so  fierce,  and  conceited,  and  infallible.  I  do  not 
know  two  such  provoking,  wrong-headed,  unmanageable 

fools,  as  the  said ,  and ;  and  wish  to  God  they 

would  kill  each  other,  and  deliver  us  from  the  intolerable 
plague  of  their  counsels." 

The  lamented  illness  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  was  not 
in  a  condition  either  to  act  as  Sheriff  of  Selkirkshire,  under 
the  Reform  Bill,  or  to  appoint  a  substitute,  or  to  resign, 
made  it-necessary  to  pass  a  statute  enabling  the  crown  to 
appoint  an  interim  sheriff  to.  act  during  his  incapacity. 
This  was  all  arranged  with  Sir  Walter's  friends ;  and  no 
one  who  knew  Jeffrey  could  doubt  the  affectionate  tender- 
ness with  which  he  would  perform  the  sad  duty  of  moving 
the  bill.  Nevertheless,  it  has  been  said  that  he  was  actu- 
ated by  a  desire  to  have  an  office  to  give  away !  Mr. 
Lockhart  has  explained  the  true  facts,  as  the  best  answer 
to  "  a  statement  highly  unjust  and  injurious  ;"  and  adds, 
that  when  "  Mr.  Jeffrey  introduced  his  bill  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  he  used  language  so  graceful  and  touching, 
that  both  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  Mr.  Croker  went  across  the 
House  to  thank  him  cordially  for  it." — (Life  of  Scott, 
chap.  83.) 

Parliament  having  adjourned  with  a  view  to  dissolution, 
he  proceeded  homeward.  "  It  is  beautiful  weather,  only  too 
hot.  I  hope  to  dine  in  the  cool  groves  of  Roehampton  with 
the  Mintos  to-morrow,  and  then  turn  my 'face  to  the  fresh 
air  of  the  north.  There  is  a  spring  and  a  bracing  in  the 
very  thought  of  it."  "  And  so  ends  the  chronicle  of  this 
session,  ever  memorable,  and  destined,  I  trust,  to  be  of 


RETURN    TO    EDINBURGH.  2d3 

blessed  memory  to  all  future  generations,  though  it  closes 
in  tears,  and  amidst  signs  of  times  which  are  big  with  anxiety 
and  alarm." — (To  me,  10th  August,  1832.)  "A  lovely 
day  ;  and  I  feel  that  I  shall  revive  when  I  meet  the  bracing 
air  of  the  north.  Yet  there  is  some  pang  in  leaving  one's 
house  of  a  year  ;  and  the  loneliness  of  London  and  its  out- 
skirts has  rather  a  melancholy  air  this  morning." — (12th 
August,  1832.) 

He  came  here  in  the  middle  of  August,  1832,  and  re- 
mained till  Parliament  met  again  in  February,  1833.  His 
chief  object  now  was,  to  be  returned  to  the  first  Reformed 
Parliament  by  his  native  city.  But  even  this  ambition  did 
not  fire  him,-as  it  would  have  done  some  excited  candidates. 

" annoys  me  by  stating  that  I  should  not  lose  a 

moment  in  coming  down  to  canvass.  Now,  first,  I  cannot 
possibly  stir  till  our  bill  is  through  the  Lords,  as  well  as 
the  Commons  ;  there  being  no  one  man  on  our  side  who 
knows  any  thing  of  the  history  or  detail  of  the  measure,  or 
could  give  any  explanation  as  to  many  points  liable  enough 
to  be  misunderstood,  and  even,  I  fear,  rashly  abandoned. 
In  the  next  place,  I  have  the  greatest  horror,  if  I  were 
even  free,  to  move  at  such  a  call,  at  the  idea  of  running 
about  begging  the  votes  of  10,000  or  12,000  people,  and 
counterfeiting  great  pride  and  eagerness,  when  all  the  time 
I  would  give  a  good  round  sum  to  be  honourably  rid  of  the 
House.  And  lastly,  as  I  stand  solely  from  public  necessity, 
and  to  oblige  or  obey  my  political  friends  on  the  spot,  I 
do  think  it  reasonable  that  they  should  arrange,  and  take 
the  charge  of  the  canvass  for  me,  being  a  thing  for  which 
I  have  no  manner  of  genius  or  stomach  at  the  present  mo- 
ment. I  hope  this  will  not  appear  unreasonable  or  selfish. 
It  may  show  more  indifference  on  the  subject  than  would 
be  wise  to  confess  to  electors,  but  not  a  bit  more,  nor,  in- 
deed, half  so  much  as  I  feel.  I  do  not  find  it  is  expected 
that  I  should  put  forth  either  a  profession  of  faith  or  an 
humble  supplication  for  support.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand., 


M 


LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 


do  I  hear  of  any  requisition  or  invitation  proposed  to  be 
addressed  to  me.  But  upon  all  tliat,  I  put  myself  in  your 
hands,  and  give  you  power  either  to  address  the  electors  in 
my  name,  or  to  intimate,  in  answer  to  any  requisition,  that 
I  am  willing  to  be  indebted  to  their  support,"  &c.  &c.  His 
associate  in  this  object  was  the  Hon.  James  Abercrombie, 
•who  for  many  years  had  so  identified  himself  with  the 
cause  of  his  countrymen,  that  long  before  popular  election 
was  introduced,  he  used  to  be  described  as  the  representa- 
tive, not  of  the  city,  but  of  the  citizens.  No  selection  by 
the  constituents  could  be  more  natural.  Ever  since  the  old 
bondage  had  begun  to  relax,  he  had  warmly  and  steadily 
supported  the  people  in  all  their  reasonable  .efforts ;  and 
they  who  know  those  matters  best  will  be  the  readiest  to 
attest  that,  without  his  sagacity  and  firmness,  his  influence 
and  parliamentary  experience,  and  his  earnest  desire  to 
"  improve  the  condition  of  his  countrymen,  many  of  their 
strongest  claims  would  have  been  without  a  practical  ad- 
viser in  London. 

He  and  Jeffrey  received  a  requisition  to  let  themselves 
be  put  in  nomination,  signed  by  about  1200  electors.  They 
consented,  and  went  through  the  usual  process  of  address- 
ing meetings  of  the  constituents,  and  of  seeing  and  confer- 
ring with  the  district  leaders.  These  things  have  become 
common  since ;  but  this  was  the  first  time  that  the  people 
had  ever  exercised  the  elective  franchise;  and  the  novelty 
of  the.  proceedings  gave  them  an  interest  that  can  never  be 
felt  again.  People  stared  at  the  very  sight  of  the  hustings  ; 
all  from  curiosity,  many  with  'delight,  some  with  unaffected 
horror.  One  party  saw,  in  these  few  rare  planks,  the  ful- 
filment of  a  vision  long  cherished  ;  another  the  end  of  a  sys- 
tem which  they  had  hoped  to  perpetuate.  The  nomination 
was  on  the  17th  of  December,  1832,  the  declaration  of  the 
poll  upon  the  19th.  Their  opponent  on  the  Tory  side  was 
a  most  excellent  gentleman,  Mr.  Forbes  Blair,  a  banker. 
The  result  was,  that  4058  voted  for  Jeffrey,  3865  for  Mr. 


SIR   THOMAS   LAUDER.  265 

Abercrombie,  1519  for  Mr.  Blair.  It  is  due  to  tbe  elect- 
ors to  state,  that  the  first  two  were  returned  free  of  ex- 
pense. 

It  was  in  connection  with  these  proceedings  that  he  first 
got  well  acquainted  with- the  late  Sir  Thomas  Lauder,  who 
had  left  his  most  beautiful  place  on  the  river  Findhorn,  and 
settled  in  Edinburgh  in  1831.  His  popular  qualities  made 
him  a  valuable  ally  in  an  election,  but  it  was  for  higher 
excellences  that  Jeffrey  adhered  to  him.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  accomplished  of  country  gentlemen.  Few  men, 
not  bred  to  any  negular  profession,  (for  his  soldiership  was 
very  short,)  could  have  distinguished  themselves  in  such  a 
variety  of  ways  as  he  could,  if  -he  had  chosen.  He  did 
enough  to  attest  his  capacity  both  for  science  and  for  art ; 
and  some  of  his  works  of  fiction  would  have  made  more 
permanent  impressions  than  they  have  done,  had  they  not 
appeared  in  the  immediate  blaze  of  those  of  Scott.  His 
account  of  the  "  Great  Floods  of  August,  1829,  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Moray  and  adjoining  districts,"  is  perhaps  the 
best  description  that  there  is  of  any  British  inundation. 
Yet  even  these  powers  were  apt  to  be  lost  sight  of  by  his 
friends,  amidst  their  enjoyment  of  his  worth  and  amiable 
gayety. 

Jeffrey  remained  here  from  August,  1832,  till  February, 
1833,  when  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  Parliament  ;  and 
at  no  period  of  his  life  was  he  happier,  or  with  better  rea- 
son. Restored  health,  the  society  of  his  natural  friends, 
some  truce  to  official  annoyance,  a  slight  resumption  of  his 
professional  occupations,  and  the  high  position  he  had 
reached,  supplied  him  with  all  the  sources  of  rational  plea- 
sure. 

On  his  way  back  to  London,  he  says,  "  I  left  you  all 
more  sadly  this  time  than  the  time  before ;  partly,  I  be- 
lieve, because  I  had  settled  more  down  to  my  old  habits, 
and  partly  because  I  could  not  but  feel  how  fast  the  tide  of 
life  is  ebbing  away  from  us,  and  how  little  may  remain  to 

23 


266  UFK   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

be  enjoyed  after  another  return,  not  for  Edinburgh,  but  to 
it.  No  maftcr,  we  must  all  do  as  we  must,  and  all  is  said. 
We  are  drifting  down  to  rapids  at  least,  if  not  to  an  abso- 
lute cataract,  and  we  must  keep  our  heads  steady." — (To 
me,  from  Stevenage,  3d  February,  1833.) 

The  only  friend,  besides  his  wife,  daughter,  and  servants, 
that  he  took  with  him,  was  one  he  often  mentions,  "Poor 
Polly"  a  gray  and  very  wise  parrot.  He  was  attached  to 
all  that  sort  of  domestic  companions,  and  submitted  to 
much  banter  on  account  of  the  soft  travelling-basket  for 
the  little  dog  Witch,  and  the  large  cage  for  this  bird. 
The  hearth-rug  and  the  sofa  were  seldom  free  of  his 
dumb  pets.  He  was  very  unwell  for  above  two  months 
after  he  arrived,  in  the  trachea,  and.  generally,  nearly 
voiceless. 

The  reform  of  the  burghs  was  now  the  great  object,  but 
it  was  far  from  superseding  otber  matters ;  for  there  were 
endless  discussions,  and  the  usual  amount  of  suggestive 
and  of  obstructive  positiveness  on  all  sides,  about  the 
Anatomy  Bill,  Church  Patronage,  Sheriffs,  Law  Reform, 
Edinburgh  Annuity  Tax,  and  many  other  matters.  This 
was  natural.  The  Reform  Act  had  broken  down  the  dam 
that  used  to  keep  back  the  stream  of  legislative  improve- 
ment. The  obstacle  was  no  sooner  removed,  than  griev- 
ances, all  said,  however  old,  to  require  instant  correction, 
started  up  in  every  corner,  and  covered  the  land  with  ex- 
halations of  reformers.  Some  of  these  were  reasonable ; 
not  the  less  so  that  they  saw  difficulties,  and  were  patient. 
Many,  in  their  enthusiasm  and  conceit,  would  hear  of  no 
doubt ;  and  had  to  learn,  by  mortifying  experience,  that 
most  cases  have  at  the  least  two  sides,  and.  that  delay  is 
often  the  ballast  of  sound  legislation.  In  the  first  flush 
of  their  liberation,  every  one  desirous  of  distinguishing 
himself  by  his  little,  bit  of  reform  rushed  with  his  project 
to  the  Lord-Advocate ;  and  if  he  found  that  government 
or  parliament  were  not  to  concede  in  a  moment  all  that 


LONDON    LIFE.  267 

he  wanted,  abused  his  lordship  as  a  changed  man.  Several 
of  these  schemes,  clear  as  their  promoters  thought  them, 
nave  not,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  additional  years,  been 
settled  yet.  Meanwhile,  though  their  promoters  troubled 
the  official  receptacle,  they  could  not  subdue  his  sense  of 
duty  or  his  good  nature.  He  heard  everybody,  and  never 
spared  himself,  but  could  not  help  being  often  amazed  at 
the  absurdity  he  had  to  deal  with. 

In  the  midst  of  this  bustle  he  did  not  forget  the  Specu- 
lative Society;  which,  and  all  other  such  institutions 
within  the  College,  were  in  great  danger  from  a  scandal- 
ous desire  on  the  part  of  the  town-council  or  its  leaders, 
to  take  all  their  apartments  from  them,  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  one  or  two  professors.  It  was  fortunate  that,  at 
this  very  moment,  government  was  making  a  grant  of 
about  ,£10, 000  to  the  magistrates  for  the  College.  The 
state  of  things  being  explained  to  Jeffrey,  he  went  to  Lord 
Brougham,  and  says,  (10th  February,  1833  :)  «I  have  seen 
the  Chancellor,  and  he  engages  that  the  grant  to  the  col- 
lege certainly  shall  not  issue,  but  on  condition  of 'the 
Studiosa  Juventus  having  accommodation  for  their  socie- 
ties," which  they  accordingly  were  allowed  to  retain. 

He  was  soon  in  all  the  whirl  of  the  place  he  had  gone 

to.  "  I  dined  yesterday  at  Ham  with ,  and  Lords 

, , ,  and  other  Tories.  To-day  I  go 

to  the  Chief  Justice's,  whom  I  have  scarcely  seen  ;  and  to- 
morrow I  have  hard  duty,  first  to  the  House  of  Lords  at 
ten,  then  to  the  drawing-room  at  two,  then  to  a  dressed 
dinner  at  Lord  Melbourne's  at  seven,  and  finally  to  Lady 
Lansdowne's  at  night.  The  drawing-room  is  the  most 
irksome.  But  I  do  well  to  write  to  'you  to-day,  though  I 
cannot  now  write  any  more.  Monday,  25th. — Well !  I 
have  got  through  the  heaviest  half  of  my  day's  task,  hav- 
ing argufied  till  two,  and  paraded  in  the  drawing-room  till 
near  five;  a  very  brilliant  ind  imposing  spectacle,  and 
more  beautiful  women  than  1  ever  saw  together  before,  and 


268  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

more  beautifully  dressed.  But  the  star  of  all  stars  in  my 
eyes  js ,  who  wants  nothing  but  wings  and  immor- 
tality to  be  an  angel.  The  getting  away,  as  usual,  was 
tiresome ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  thought  the  pastime  so 
good  that  I  think  I  shall  go  to  another.  We  had  a  de- 
lightful quiet  dinner  with  the  Chief  Justice  yesterday,  no 
one  but  Sharpe  and  Empson.  He  is  full  of  heart  and 
spirits,  and  we  stayed  talking  till  eleven." — (To  me,  24th 
February,  1833.) 

The  Irish  Coercion  Bill  gave  him  the  best  view  he  had 
yet  obtained  of  the  nature  of  a  certain  class  of  the  Irish 
members — "without  the  least  sense  of  shame  or  honour; 
bold,  desperate,  and  loquacious." — (3d  February,  1833.) 
He  was  always  inclined  to  hope  better  of  O'Connell,  and 
had  a  great  admiration  of  his  eloquence;  "  He  is  a  great 
artist.  In  my  opinion  indisputably  the  greatest  orator  in 
the  House  ;  nervous,  passionate,  without  art  or  ornament ; 
concise,  intrepid,  terrible ;  far  more  in  the  style  of  old 
Demosthenic  directness  and  vehemence,  than  any  thing  I 
have  heard  in  this  modern  world ;  yet  often  coarse,  and 
sometimes  tiresome,  as  Demosthenes  was  too,  though  ven- 
turing far  less,  and  going  over  far  less  ground." — (To  me, 
4th  March,  1833.) 

The  Burgh  Bill  was  moved  for  on  the  12th  March,  1833, 
"without  any  discussion,  or  next  to  none;  and  I  shall 
read  it  a  first  time,  I  hope,  to-morrow,  and  a  second  time 
on  Friday,  in  the  same  quiet  and  comfortable  way.  The 
secret  of  this  is,  that  we  finally  arranged  to  send  it,  after 
the  second  reading,  to  a  special  committee  up-stairs,  con- 
sisting of  all  the  twenty-three  burgh  members  for  Scotland, 
who  may  there  discuss  and  suggest  at  their  leisure,  .and, 
having  so  exhausted  themselves,  will  not  be  much  disposed, 
or  readily  allowed,  to  bother- about  it  in  the  House." — (To 
me,  12th  March,  1833.) 

Was  it  owing  to  their  anticipating  this,  that  they  took 
their  own  way  in  the  committee  ?  He  seems  to  have  been 


THE    BURGH    REFORM    BILL. 

absolutely  worried,  not  so  much  by  the  direct  opposition  of 
those  who  were  against  the  measure,  as  by  the  restless  con- 
ceit and  intolerance  of  its  friends.  Every  man  in  every 
town  thought  that  this  was  a  matter  on  which  he  was  entitled 
to  speak,  and  confidently ;  and  as  there  was  little  analogy  to 
be  affected  by  it  in  England,  it  was  not  adequately  taken 
charge  of  by  government.  It  was  therefore  far  more  dis- 
tressing to  the  Lord-Advocate,  in  whose  unassisted  hands 
they  4 left  it,  than  the  parliamentary  reform  had  been. 
"  Our  committee — I  mean  the  Scotch  burgh  committee — 
goes  on  as  ill  as  possible,  and  it  is  difficult  to  say  who  be- 
haves worst."  "  They  chatter,  and  wrangle,  and  contra- 
dict, and  grow  angry,  and  read  letters  and  extracts  from 
blockheads  of  town-clerks,  and  little  fierce  agitators  ;  and 
forgetting  that  they  are  members  of  a  great  legislature, 
and  (some  of  them)  attached  to  a  fair  ministry,  go  on  specu- 
lating, and  suggesting,  and  debating,  more  loosely,  crudely, 
and  interminably,  than  a  parcel  of  college  youths  in  the 
first  novitiate  of  disceptation." — (To  me,  28th  March, 
1833.) 

His  speculation  upon  Parliament  itself,  on  its  rising  for 
Easter,  is  in  the  same  spirit.  «  The  first  act  of  the  new 
parliamentary  drama  will  probably  end,  for  a  short  inter- 
val, on  Wednesday ;  and  I  am  afraid  is  not  to  be  looked 
back  to  with  much  satisfaction.  The  friction  in  the  •work- 
ing of  the  machine,  and  the  consequent  obstruction  of  its 
movements,  has  been  much  greater  than  was  ever  known ; 
and  though  this  may  grow  less  when  it  has  been  longer  in 
use,  as  is  the  case  with  all  new  machines,  I  arn  afraid  part 
of  it  is  owing  to  the  increased  number  of  independent 
movements,  and  part,  perhaps,  to  the  want  of  the  old  oiling 
which  can  no  longer  be  afforded.  It  is  pretty  plain,  too, 
that  though  on  the  great  political  questions  there  is  a  great 
majority  against  all  extreme  opinions,  there  is  a  very 
formidable  and  unruly  mass  of  crude  and  perilous  doctrines 
upon  all  the  other  great  interests  of  society ;  and,  above 

fc-vO.i[. 


270  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

all,  such  a  determination  on  the  part  of  the  respective 
doctrinaires  to  have  what  they  call  a  full  and  thorough  dis- 
cussion of  merits,  and  to  take  no  check  from  indications 
of  dislike  and  disgust  on  the  part  of  the  House,  that  I  fore- 
see we  shall  have  quite  as  long  and  nauseating  debates  on 
currency,  church  reform,  East  Indies,  slavery,  property- 
tax,  poor-laws,  and  other  economical  topics,  as  we  have  had 
upon  Ireland  ;  and,  as  life  and  days  do  not  admit  of  equiva- 
lent prolongations,  that  we  shall  make  no  substantial  pro- 
gress in  most  of  them,  or  in  any  thing  else,  although  we 
should  sit  till  January ;  while  the  impatient  and  factious 
movement  is  hooting,  and  hissing,  and  abusing  us  for  not 
regenerating  all  things  before  the  middle  of  June  !  This 
is  truly  our  position  and  practical  prospect,  which  -you  will 
admit  is  sufficiently  cheering.  I  often  think  seriously  of 
cutting  and  running,  (especially  if  I  have  a  sick  fit,)  and 
the  only  thing  that  prevents  me  is  the  difficulty  of  deciding 
what  to  run  to,  and  a  sort  of  epicurean  fatalism  in  my 
creed,  which  has  long  made  me  believe  that  as  we  must  do 
something,  and  suffer  something  in  this  uncontrollable 
world,  it  is  better  to  leave  Providence  to  determine  what 
it  shall  be,  than  to  vex  one's-self,  and  increase  one's  re- 
sponsibility, by  trying  to  alter  it." — (To  me,  28th  March, 
1833.) 

There  are  few  who  have  ever  been  engaged  in  getting 
even  friends  to  co-operate  in  measures  of  practical  wisdom, 
who  will  not  sympathize  with  him  when-  he  says :  « It  is 
mortifying  and  marvellous  to  find  how  difficult  it  is  to  do 
good,  even  when  one  is  good-natured,  and  has  neither  san- 
guine motives  nor  sinister  views." — (23d  Mar^h,  1833.) 

The  changes  in  the  midst  of  which  he  lived,  and  the 
general  action  of  new  principles,  exposed  him  somewhat 
more  than  usual,  perhaps,  to  the  torment  of  details,  for 
which,  as  he  could  not  control  them,  he  should  not  have 
been  held  responsible,  and  which  distract  any  Lord- Advo- 
cate more  than  the  higher  duties  of  his  place.  "  The  great 


RURAL    LONGINGS.  271 

oppression  to  which  my  office  is  subjected  is  not  so  much 
in  this  business  of  legislature,  as  to  which  the  Advocate 
should  always  be  for  something,  as  the  endless  political 
references  and  reports  upon  applications  for  places  and 
offices,  from  a  common  exciseman  up  to  a  supreme  judge, 
through  all  the  variations  of  ministers,  schoolmasters,  pro- 
fessors, justices  of  the  peace,  lord-lieutenants,  staff  sur- 
geons, colonies,  consuls,  king's  confectioners,  &c.  &c.  The 
time  this  occupies,  and  its  infinite  irksomeness,  is  the  great 
drawback  to  J;he  situation  ;  and  it  must  sooner  or  later  be 
relieved  of  it."— (To  me,  16th  April,  1833.) 

These  vexations  were  not  diminished  by  feeble  health, 
made  worse  by  the  hay  fever.  "  The  weather  is  very  hot 
and  beautiful  now.  I  wish  I  were  lolling  on  one  of  my 
high  shady  seats  at  Craigcrook,  listening  to  the  soothing 
wind  among  the  branches.  And  it  is  shocking  to  think 
how  much  all  that  scene  is  disenchanted  by  its  vicinity  to  my 

constituents.  The  fleshly  presence  of , , ,* 

by 'whom  I  am  baited  daily,  helps,  I  doubt  not,  to  enliven 
that  impression." — (To  me,  16th  July,  1833.)  He  re- 
freshed himself  by  substitute  scenes.  "I  do  take  your 
advice,  and  fly  at  the  end  of  the  week  to  my  wood  nymphs. 
We  came  here  last  night,  eight  hours  before  the  Lords  had 
read  our  bill  for  the  second  time,  and  I  have  been  all  day 
wandering  among  the  ancient  Druidical  oaks  and  gigantic 
limes  at  Moor  Park,  which  is  about  four  miles  off,  and  full 
of  grandeur  and  beauty.  What  a  country  this  old  England 
is  !  In  a  circle  of  twenty  miles  from  this  spot,  (leaving  out 
London  and  suburbs,)  there  is  more  old  timber  and  superb 
residences  than  in  all  Scotland,  and  with  so  little  ostenta- 
tion."—(To  me,  from  Watford,  20th  July,  1833.) 

"  It  is  sweet  weather,  and  I  pine  hourly  for  shades,  and 
leisure,  and  the  Doric  sounds  of  my  mother  tongue !  I 

*  All  dead ;  and  most  intolerable,  wherever  any  opinion  of  theirs  was 
not  instantly  submitted  to. 


272  LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

read  through  the  Gentle  Shepherd  the  other  day  at  Mal- 
thus's,  and  cried  plentifully  over  the  recollections  it  brought 
back  to  iny  excited  heart.  I  think  I  am  decidedly  belter, 
having  sat  in  the  House  till  after  one  this  morning,  and 
walked  home  pleasantly  at  the  breaking  up.  But  I  shall 
keep  to  my  hermit  diet,  and  shall  make  9  poor  figure  at 
your  symposia,  if  I  do  not  mend  my  manners  before  I  come 
among  you.  Both  Houses  are  dropping  their  members  like 
trees  their  leaves  in  autumn.  Town  is  visibly  thinning, 
and  begins  to  have  a  deserted  appearance.  Jt  is  a  mercy 
the  prorogation  is  still  thought  inevitable  once  a  year." — 
(To  me,  6th  August,  1833.) 

The  prorogation  was  now  at  hand.  "  The  waters  grow 
shallower,  with  rather  more  rapidity."  I  expressed  my 
sorrow  for  this,  as  it  would  prevent  my  receiving  more  of 
his  letters,  which,  in  joke,  I  threatened  to  publish,  to 
which  he  says :  "  You  are  very  kind  about  my  letters,  but 
if  I  thought  there  was  the  least  chance  of  their  ever  seeing 
the  light,  I  fear  all  feelings  of  kindness  would  be  cancelled. 
I  sometimes  laugh  myself  to  think  what  a  picture  of  contra- 
dictions and  rash  prophecy  they  must  exhibit.  The  only 
thing  I  have  not  to  blush  for  is,  that  I  do  not  think  they 
indicate  any  base  regard  to  self-interest,  or  any  personal 
malice  or  vindictiveness.  I  think  we  must  make  a  bonfire 
of  them  the  first  time  we  dine  quietly  together  at  a  winter 
fireside,  if  that  is  ever  to  be  again." — (To  me,  12th  Au- 
gust, 1833.) 

"  Cobbett,  and  ,  and  our  worthy grow- 
more  radical  and  outrageous  as  the  session  draws  to  a  close ; 
in  order,  I  suppose,  that  they  may  go  to  their  constituents 
with  the  sweet  savour  of  these  offences  fresh  upon  them,  to 
counteract  'any  odour  of  reason  or  moderation  that  they 
may  have  contracted  in  other  parts  of  their  course."  "In 
other  respects  we  move  rather  steadily  to.  our  destined  goal ; 
and  it  seems  universally  thought  that  the  curtain  will  be 
dropped  and  the  audience  dismissed  about  the  27th.  Un- 


REFLECTIONS   ON   THE    REFORM  BILLS.  273 

less  I  have  bad  luck,  therefore,  I  do  not  see  why  I  should 
not  get  away  on  the  24th  or  25th.  I  pant  beyond  expres- 
sion for  two  days  of  absolute  and  unbroken  leisure.  If  it 
were  not  for  my  love  of  beautiful  nature  and  poetry,  my 
heart  would  have  died  within  me  long  ago.  I  never  felt 
before  what  immeasurable  benefactors  these  same  poets  are 
to  their  kind,  and  how  large  a  measure,  both  of  actual 
happiness  and  prevention  of  misery,  they  have  imparted 
to  the  race.  I  would  willingly  give  up  half  my  fortune, 
and  some  little  of  the  fragments  of  health  and  bodily  en- 
joyment that  remain  to  me,  rather  than  that  Shakspeare 
should  not  have  lived  before  me.  And  so  God  bless  you." 
(To  me,  16th  August,  1833.) 

The  Burgh  Bill,  in  spite  of  all  its  perils,  (some  of  them 
not  from  its  open  enemies,)  was  at  last  safe ;  and  looking 
back  upon  it  and  the  reform  Parliament,  he  was  well  en- 
titled to  enjoy  these  reflections :  "  If  things  go  right,  I 
think  I  shall  move  on  Sunday  or  Monday.  It  makes  me 
start  when  I  think  of  this  as  a  reality,  which  I  have  been 
so  long  accustomed  to  cherish  as  a  dream  by  night  and  a 
vision  only  in  the  day.  It  is  something  to  have  had  even 
an  official  and  accidental  connection  with  two  such  mea- 
sures as  Parliamentary  and  Burgh  Reform  ;  and  if  I  have 
not  made,  or  had  occasion  to  make,  any  great  splash  about 
them,  I  must  say  I  think  I  have  been  diligent  and  prudent 
in  my  management,  as  I  am  sure  I  have  been  candid  and 
open  in  every  stage  of  their  discussion.  I  shall  never  have 
any  task  of  equal  importance  to  perform,  and  should  be 
well  enough  pleased  if  this  should  be  the  last  that  is  re- 
quired of  me.  Though  I  like  London,  and  do  not  dislike 
Parliament  by  any  means,  I  rather  think  I  have  had  almost 
enough  of  them ;  and  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  re- 
treat to  a  calmer  and  less  elevated  region,  and  glide  through 
the  remaining  course  of  my  life  in  tranquillity.  I  shall  not 
run  at  once  into  the  embraces  of  my  constituents." — (To 
me,  20th  August,  1833.) 
s 


274  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

He  left  London  on  the  24th  of  August,  and,  after  some 
English  visits,  reached  Craigcrook  about  the  middle  of 
September.  Within  twenty-four  hours  the  constituents 
found  him  out ;  but  he  "  found  them  not  only  thoroughly 
amicable,  but  greatly  more  reasonable  than  I  expected." 
The  autumn  and  winter  were  passed  as  usual ;  and  early  in 
February  he  returned  to  London,  "  with  something  of  a 
heavy  heart  and  a  shrinking  spirit,  and  would  rather  have 
flown  away  on  a  dove's  wings,  and  been  at  rest.  But  I 
suppose  this  will  come  sometime;  and  meanwhile  I  take 
it  for  granted  that  when  I  am  once  in  the  battle,  I  shall 
imbibe  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  and  follow  the  multitude  to 
do  evil." — (To  Mrs.  Craig,  9th  February,  1834.)  He  cer- 
tainly did.  These  pensive  aspirations  after  rest,  though 
they  occurred  in  his  visionary  moments,  seldom  obstructed 
his  practical  pursuits.  During  the  three  months  of  this 
residence  in  London,  he  was  often  in  the  House  of  Lords 
professionally,  and  a  great  deal  in  society,  but  was  chiefly 
occupied  in  the  House  and  its  committees  on  various  local 
matters,  which  need  not  be  explained  here,  and  had  no  re- 
sult. Of  these  the  most  important  related  to  the  old,  and 
vexed,  and  now  useless  subject  of  patronage  in  the  Church 
of  Scotland,  on  which  a  committee  had  been  obtained  by 
his  friend  Sir  George  Sinclair.  While  these  things  were 
going  on,  a  vacancy  occurred  on  the  bench  of  the  Court 
of  Session,  and  he  became  a  judge. 

"  I  am  no  longer  in  Parliament  after  two  hours,  and  no 
longer  Lord-Advocate.  A  new  writ  will  be  moved  for 
Edinburgh  to-night,  on  my  acceptance  of  office.  I  have 
just  taken  my  last  peep  into  that  turbulent,  potent,  heart- 
stirring  House  of  Commons,  and  finished  an  hour  ago  the 
last  argument  I  shall  ever  deliver  from  any  bar.  There  is 
something  sad  in  these  finalities,  and  my  present  feeling  is 
of  that  character ;  but  through  this  dimness  I  see  a  bright 
Vision  of  leisure,  reason,  and  happiness.  God  bless  you, 


LEAVING   LONDON.  275 

ever  yours.  Remember  I  am,  hereafter,  only  F,  J.,  and 
no  franks."— (To  me,  15th  May,  1833.) 

"  I  am  so  much  flattered  and  condoled  with  here,  that  I 
linger  too  fondly.  But  all  that  scene  will  soon  pass  away 
now,  and  I  shall  by  and  by  forget  it,  as  much  as  I  ought 
to  forget  it."— (To  me,  23d  May,  1834.) 

"  And  so  here  at  last  ends  our  metropolitan  correspond- 
ence !  and  I  really  turn  my  back  finally  on  London,  and 
betake  myself  to  the  venerable  functions  of  a  judge.  I 
wish,  I  had  more  of  the  inward  vocation  to  the  holy  office. 
But  I  suppose  it  will  come,  and  I  am  quite  sure  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  find  myself  once  more  in  the  midst  of  my  old- 
est and  truest  friends.  In  the  mean  time  I  cannot  but  wish 
that  the  parting  were  fairly  over,  nor  help  acknowledging 
that  it  has  been,  and  is  attended  with  pain.  I  have  natu- 
ralized here  perfectly,  and  have  been  more  kindly  received 
than  is  good  for  my  modesty  to  remember,  though  I  am 
sure  it  is  not  bad  for  my  heart.  I  have  stuck  to  my  social 
career,  too,  as  dutifully  as  I  did  to  my  parliamentary.  On 
Saturday  I  dined  with  Rogers ;  on  Sunday  at  Richmond ; 
yesterday  at  Lady  Park's ;  and  to-day  at  Holland  House, 
with  Lady  Cowper,  Duncannon,  Luttrel,  and  Sir  A.  Paget. 

Then  I  saw  my  bright : —  in  the  morning,  and  my  dear 

at  night,  and  had  such  tender  partings  !     And  I 

had  a  long  walk  in  the  park  yesterday  with  the  Chancellor 
and  Duncannon,  both  as  merry  as  school-boys ;  and  sat 
an  hour  with  Joanna  Baillie,  and  my  poor,  sick-spirited 
Mrs.  Calcet.  Well,  there  must  be  an  end  of  all  things, 
and  the  end  of  one  thing  is  the  beginning  of  another,  and 
death  of  life,  and  so  forth."— (To  me,  27th  May,  1834.) 

To  George  Bell,  the  old  and  steady  associate  of  his  ob- 
scure and  penniless  days,  he  intimated  his  change  of  life 
thus  :  "  You  know  I  am  out  of  Parliament,  and  about  to 
be  on  the  bench.  I  have  had  a  pang  on  parting  with  so 
much  interest,  excitement,  and  kindness  as  have  been  shed' 
over  my  life  here.  But  I  do  not  doubt  that  I  have  done 


276  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

right  on  thonvhole,  for  myself  at  all  events,  ami  I  hope  not 
wrong  for  any  other.  I  am  not  composed  enough  to  write 
deliberately,  but  the  greatest  soother  I  can  find,  in  my  agi- 
tation, is  the  thought  of  coming  back  to  end  my  days  where 
they  began,  and  among  the  few  remaining  friends  from 
whom  I  have  never  been  fora  moment  divided  in  affection." 
(To  George  Bell,  Esq.,  London,  16th  May,  1834.) 

Before  he  came  away  he  had  the  honour  of  receiving  a 
farewell  banquet  from  the  Scotch  members.  About  thirty- 
three  attended,  some  of  whom  were  his  political  opponents. 
One  of  the  party,  who,  I  believe,  had  a  longer  experience 
of  parliamentary  speaking  than  any  one  there,  wrote  to  a 
friend  here  next  day  :  "Jeffrey's  speech  at  his  dinner  yes- 
terday was  exquisitely  beautiful.  It  was  perfect.  I  can- 
not say  how  much  I  was  pleased  and  charmed  with  it." 
His  own  account  of  the  party  was  this :  "  I  had  a  jolly 
dinner  with  the  Scotch  members  on  Tuesday — about  thirty- 
two  ^present — two  Tories,  Gumming  Bruce,  and  Pitfour. 
Apologies  in  very  kind  terms  from  Sir  William  Rae,  and 
about  a  dozen  of  our  friends.  They  stayed  till  one  o'clock, 
and  were  not  all  sober." — (To  me,  22d  May,  1834.) 

This  testimony  proceeded  partly  from  personal  liking ; 
but  it  was  also  meant  as  an  acknowledgment  of  his  official 
conduct.  And  certainly  the  duties  of  the  very  trying  situa- 
tion he  had  just  left  had  never  been  performed,  in  such 
circumstances,  with  greater  industry,  or  fairness,  or  judg- 
ment ;  nor  was  Scotland  ever  under  the  protection  of  a 
purer  or  more  enlightened  public  accuser.  Some  people 
used  to  doubt  if  he  was  a  good  manager  of  men.  But  these 
were  generally  persons  who  were  urging  him  to  do  some- 
thing he  disapproved  of.  And,  at  any  rate,  some  defi- 
ciency in  the  art  of  controlling  discordant  parties  would 
be  but  a  small  deduction  from  the  merit  of  any  counsel 
raised -suddenly  into  his  position,  even  in  peaceful  times. 
•  But  he  was  called  into  public  action  at  a  period  teeming 
with  projects,  and  he,  nearly  deserted  by  government,  was 


HIS  PARLIAMENTARY  CAREER.          277 

left  to  the  mercies  of  every  county,  city,  parish,  public 
body,  or  person,  who  had  an  interest  or  a  fancy  to  urge. 
Thus  encouraged,  few  opponents  were  candid  ;  some  friends 
obstinate ;  no  theorist  timid  ;  no  applicant  slack  ;  no  block- 
head modest.  Having  done  all  that  patience,  reason,  and 
kindness  could  do  to  bring  this  chaos  into  order,  the  fail- 
ure, when  it  occurred,  was  their  fault — not  his.  Let  him 
be  tried  by  any  one  who  has  held  his  office.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  steady  aid  of  a  few  honest  and  sensible  men, 
neither  he,  nor  any  one  else,  could  have  stood  in  the  place 
he  then  occupied.  Of  these  friends,  to  him  and  to  Scot- 
land, he  always  mentioned  the  Earl  of  Minto  and  Mr. 
Kennedy,  as  entitled  to  his  gratitude,  and  to  that  of  their 
country.  Throughout  the  whole  composition  of  the  Reform 
Bill,  down  to  the  minutest  criticisms,  he  had  to  receive  the 
remarks  of  a  committee  of  sheriffs,  whose  duty  it  was,  they 
being  the  officers  who  were  principally  to  carry  it  into 
effect,  to  anticipate  and  to  fancy  objections.  But  though 
there  perhaps  was  not  one  of  them  who  would  not  have 
rejoiced  in  the  failure  of  the  measure,  their  suggestions 
were  made  in  a  fair  spirit,  and  were  therefore  always  grate- 
fully listened  to,  and  to  a  great  extent  acted  upon.  Mr. 
Cay,  the  intelligent  Sheriff  of  Linlithgowshire,  who  was 
their  convener,  informs  me  that,  throughout  all  their  many 
and  often  rather  teasing  objections  and  proposals,  per- 
vading at  least  nine  editions  of  the  bill,  they  found  the 
Lord-Advocate  not  merely  open  to  explanation,  but  patient 
and  reasonable.  No  fact  could  be  more  honourable  to  the 
candour  of  both  parties. 

It  was  also  said  that  he  had  failed  in  Parliament;  and 
wonder  was  expressed  how  this  could  befall  a  person  of  his 
ability  and  character.  But,  unless  it  was  as  a  speaker,  he 
did  not  fail.  He  was  a  regular  attender,  a  good  voter,  a 
wise  adviser,  and  a  popular  gentleman.  Few  men's  opi- 
nions were  more  valued.  Can  there  not  be  a  good  silent 
member  ?  If  all  those  afe  to  be  held  to  have  failed  who  do 

24 


278  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

not  speak  well  and  often,  there  are  at  least  five  hundred 
members  who  have  failed  in  every  Parliament.  As  to 
speaking,  though  he  practised  it  much  more  and  much  bet- 
ter than  is  commonly  supposed,  still,  for  him,  he  must  be 
deemed  not  to  have  succeeded.  But  there  is  no  difficulty 
in  accounting  for  this.  The  true  wonder  would  have  arisen 
if  it  had  been  otherwise. 

He  was  a  lawyer  ;  who  had  entered  the  House  at  fifty- 
seven,  with  a  great  reputation,  a  weakened  voice,  and  the 
certainty  that  his  parliamentary  career  could  not  extend 
beyond  a  very  few  years,  and  might  end  at  any  moment. 
Nothing  beyond  these  facts  could  have  been  required  to 
explain  his  want  of  success,  though  it  had  been  complete 
and  irrecoverable.  But,  in  addition  to  these  obstacles,  he 
was  a  member  of  the  government ;  and  his  public  words, 
therefore,  were  not  his  own.  There  are  some  to  whom  this 
restraint  is  a  comfort.  It  justifies  their  silence,  and  directs 
them  what  to  say.  But  to  Jeffrey's  speculative  head,  and 
nimble  tongue,  it  operated  as  water  does  upon  fire. 

Yet,  beyond  all  question,  he  was  an  eloquent  man.  And, 
though  his  power  was  not  displayed  in  the  great  national 
theatre,  it  was  upon  his  eloquence  that  much  of  his  useful- 
ness and  reputation  depended.  I  have  spoken  of  it  partly 
already ;  and  as  it  is  scaroely  worth  while  describing  any 
thing  so  evanescent  and  so  common  as  good  speaking  in 
this  country,  on  its  own  account,  I  only  add  a  few  words 
in  order  to  identify  the  individual  style. 

His  voice  was  distinct  and  silvery  ;  so  clear  and  precise, 
th'at,  when  in  good  order,  it  was  heard  above  a  world  of  dis- 
cordant sounds.  The  utterance  was  excessively  rapid  ;* 

*  I  believe  the  story  is  quite  true,  that  a  wor.thy  man  from  Glasgow, 
on  whom  he  poured  out  a  long  torrent  of  vituperation  in  an  action  for 
libel,  after  listening  complacently  till  he  was  done,  said :  "Well !  he  has 
spoken  the  whole  English  language  thrice  over  in  two  hours."  He  had 
been  so  much  warned  against  this  habit,  in  reference  to  Parliament,  that 
eometimes  he  actually  spoke  too  slowly  there. 


HIS    ELOQUENCE.  279 

but  without  sputtering,  slurring,  or  confusion ;  and  regu- 
lated into  deliberate  emphasis,  whenever  this  was  proper. 
The  velocity  of  the  current  was  not  more  remarkable  than 
its  purity  and  richness.  His  command  of  language  was 
unlimited.  He  used  to  say,  that  if  he  had  to  subdue  the 
world  by  words,  he  would  take  his  armour  from  Jeremy 
Taylor.  And  in  copiousness  and  brilliancy,  no  living  man 
came  nearer  the  old  divine.  The  mind  by  which  these  fine 
weapons  were  wielded  was  fully  qualified  to  use  them. 
Ridicule,  sarcasm,  argument,  statement,  pathos,  or  moral 
elevation — he  could  excel  "in  them  all.  The  only  defect 
was  one  which  earlier  parliamentary  practice  must  have 
corrected,  and  which  it  is  not  easy  to  reconcile  with  the 
ethereal  nature  of  his  general  style.  It  was,  that  his  magi- 
cal facility  led  him  into  too  much  refinement,  and  conse- 
quently into  occasional  tediousness.  He  did  not  always 
rise  to  address  an  audience  under  the  weight  of  deep  prepa- 
ration, or  under  the  awe  inspired  by  a  large  survey  of  his 
subject,  but  trusted  to  the  immediate  workings  of  his  own 
mind.  This  withdrew  him  from  the  audience  to  himself; 
and,  instead  of  maintaining  that  constant  and  instinctive 
sympathy  with  his  hearers,  which  enables  a  plainer  speaker 
to  perceive  his  success  or  his  failure  at  the  moment  in  their 
eyes,  he  was  apt  to  be  looking  inward,  and  to  be  enjoying 
the  inventive  process  going  on  in  his  own  breast.  This  was 
an  enjoyment  with  which  listeners  could  have  no  sympa- 
thy. The  pleasure  was  his,  the  weariness  theirs.  And 
the  exercise  promoted  the  defect  of  too  active  refinement. 
So  just,  with  reference  to  all  his  peculiarities,  was  Homer's 
saying,  that  if  Jeffrey  could  only  speak  slow,  and  add  a 
cubit  to  his  stature,  and  be  a  little  dull,  nobody  could  op- 
pose him. 

When  he  was  in  a  good  state,  and  with  any  thing  in  the 
place,  the  occasion,  or  the  subject,  to  repress  his  fertility, 
and  to  subdue  him  to  a  simpler  style,  his  success  was  cer- 
tain. His  necessarily  short  addresses  were  almost  always 


280  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

perfect.  His  appeal  to  the  jury  in  the  case  of  Paterson, 
accused  of  poisoning  his  wife,  when,  not  being  able  to  dis- 
pute that  the  prisoner  had,  at  one  time,  intended  to  mur- 
der her,  he  successfully  turned  the  fact  into  a  ground  for 
urging  that  during  the  interval  he  must  have  for  ever  re- 
coiled from  the  guilt  he  had  escaped ;  his  defence  for  Mrs. 
Mackinnon,  accused  of  stabbing  a  young  man  to  death,  in 
a  brawl  in  her  disorderly  house,  where  he  described  the 
horrible  nature  of  public  death  to  a  female  with  some  gene- 
rous feelings,  and  how  sweet  life  was  even  to  a  prostitute 
and  a  supposed  murderess;*  hi?  noble  reply  in  the  General 
Assembly  for  the  minister  of  Inchture,  in  which  his  picture 
of  the  situation  of  a  deposed  clergyman,  contrasted  with 
that  of  his  brethren,  who,  after  pronouncing  the  sentence, 
were  all  to  return  to  their  comfortable  homes,  sa-ved  that 
client  from  conviction ;  his  speech  to  the  public  meeting 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Edinburgh  at  the  Pantheon ;  his 
graceful  and  affectionate  address  on  his  first  installation  as 
Lord  Rector  at  Glasgow ;  his  lofty  and  scornful  reply  to 
the  jury  for  Sir  James  Craig,  on  the  trial  of  that  gen- 
tleman's prosecution  of  the  printer  of  a  party  newspaper 
for  libel, — these,  and  many  others  with  which  our  Edin- 
burgh ears  still  thrill,  were  matchless  and  unalloyed  exhi- 
bitions— leaving  impressions  which  no  rival  effort,  by  any 
competitor,  could  efface. 

With  a  larger  theatre  than  ours,  and  a  more  formidable 
training,  his  parliamentary  success  would  have  been  sure 
and  splendid.  But  he  had  no  chance  in  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  first  tried  the  House  of  Commons ;  partly  be- 
cause that,  like  every  other  assembly,  has  its  own  local 
tastes,  and  tolerates  no  other.  "  Of  these,  the  most  ex- 
tinguishing to  an  unpractised  hand  is  the  necessity  of 
personalities — with  which  even  instruction,  to  save  it  from 

*  It  was  from  sitting  all  day  under  an  open  window,  at  this  trial,  that 
he  was  first  affected  by  that  infirmity  in  his  throat,  which,  recurred  so 
distressingly  throughout  all  the  rest  of  his  life. 


PARLIAMENT   STANDARD    OF   ORATORY.  281 

being  tiresome,  must  apparently  be  savoured.  There  is 
no  denying  the  value  of  a  weapon  which  is  essential  for  the 
moral  discipline  of  any  assembly,  and,  as  individually  di- 
rected, may  supply  the  most  logical  conclusions.  But  it  is 
one  from  which  a  new  member  of  any  delicacy  shrinks,  and 
which  nothing  but  long  familiarity  with  the  proceedings 
and  the  individualities  of  the  place  can  enable  any  one  to 
use  with  confidence  and  effect.*  Moreover,  the  frequent 
failures  in  Parliament  of  speakers  who  shine  elsewhere,  are 
not  always  owing,  as  the  regular  House  of  Commons  man 
is  apt  to  suppose,  merely  to  the  essential  superiority  of  the 
great  scene ;  but  to  Parliament  acquiring  a  very  peculiar 
criterion  of  excellence,  and  having  power  to  enforce  sub- 
mission to  this,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  style.  There 
is  every  presumption  that  the  best  tone  will  be  formed,  and 
the  best  standard  be  set  up,  and  the  fairest  play  be  given, 
in  such  a  collection  of  such  men ;  but  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  distaste  of  every  thing  that  is  strange  to  their  own, 
habits  and  models  does  occasionally,  and  especially  when 
dealing  with  the  audacity  of  a  provincial  reputation,  impair 
their  perception  of  merit,  which,  wherever  the  field  was 
open,  would  not  be  universally  postponed  to  that  of  their 
own  idols. 

Jeffrey's  reception  in  all  his  previous  visits  to  London, 
where  he  had  formed  many  valuable  friendships,  had  always 
been  kind.  But  during  the  three  official  years  which  he 
had  mostly  passed  there,  he  was  still  more  extensively 
known  and  courted ;  and  this  by  various  classes,  including 
not  only  the  literary  and  political,  but,  to  a  certain  extent, 
even  the  fashionable.  This  popularity,  by  which  he  was 

*  Homer  accounts  for  his  own  silence,  after  being  above  two  years  in 
Parliament,  partly  by  this  necessity.  "  There  have  been  some  discou- 
ragements of  a  different  nature  ;  the  petty  war  of  political  personalities 
is  exceedingly  irksome  to  me,  (being  personally  not  implicated,)  and  I 
have  witnessed  but  little  else  since  I  sat  in  the  House." — Memoirs 
i.  445. 

24* 


282  LIFE    OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 

less  elated  than  softened  into  gratitude,  was  the  result  of 
his  character  and  of  his  conversation. 

The  last  I  have  not  skill  to  describe,  except  negatively. 
He  was  certainly  a  first-rate  talker.  But  he  was  not  an 
avowed  sayer  of  good  things ;  nor  did  he  deal  but  very 
sparingly  in  anecdote,  or  in  personalities,  or  in  repartee ; 
and  he  very  seldom  told  a  story,  or  quoted  ;  and  never 
lectured  ;  and  though  perpetually  discussing,  almost  never 
disputed ;  and  though  joyous,  was  no  great  laugher.  What 
then  did  he  do  ?  He  did  this  : — His  mind  was  constantly 
full  of  excellent  matter ;  his  spirit  was  always  lively  ;  and 
his  heart  was  never  wrong ;  and  the  effusion  of  these  pro- 
duced the  charm.  He  had  no  exclusive  topics.  All  sub- 
jects were  welcome ;  and  all  found  him  ready,  if  not  in 
knowledge,  at  least  in  fancy.  But  literary  and  moral 
speculations  were,  perhaps,  his  favourite  pastures.  And 
in  these,  as  in  any  region  whatever,  for  nothing  came  amiss, 
he  ranged  freely,  under  the  play  of  a  gay  and  reasonable 
imagination ;  from  no  desire  of  applause,  but  because  it 
gratified  his  mental  activity.  Speaking  seemed  necessary 
for  his  existence.  The  intellectual  fountains  were  so  full, 
that  they  were  always  bubbling  over,  and  it  would  have 
been  painful  to  restrain  them.  For  a  great  talker,  he  was 
very  little  of  an  usurper.  Everybody  $Jse  had  full  scope, 
and  indeed  was  encouraged ;  and  he  himself,  though  pro- 
fuse, was  never  long  at  a  time ;  except  perhaps  when 
giving  an  account  of  something  of  which  he  was  the  mere 
narrator,  when  his  length  depended  on  the  thing  to  be  told. 
Amid  all  his  fluency  of  thought,  and  all  his  variety  of 
matter,  a  great  part  of  the  delight  of  his  conversation  arose 
from  its  moral  qualities.  Though  never  assuming  the  oflBce 
ef  a  teacher,  his  goodness  of  feeling  was  constantly  trans- 
piring. No  one  could  take  a  walk,  or  pass  a  day  or  an 
evening  with  him,  without  having  all  his  ration'al  and  gene- 
rous tastes  confirmed,  and  a  steadier  conviction  than  before 
of  the  dependence  of  happiness  on  kindness  and  duty.  Let 


HIS   CONVERSATION.  283 

him  be  as  bold,  and  as  free,  and  as  incautious,  and  hila- 
rious as  he  might,  no  sentiment  could  escape  him  that 
tended  to  excuse  inhumanity  or  meanness,  or  that  failed  to 
cherish  high  principles  and  generous  affections.  Then  the 
language  in  which  this  talent  and  worth  were  disclosed ! 
The  very  words  were  a  delight.  Copious  and  sparkling, 
they  often  imparted  nearly  as  much  pleasure  as  the  merry 
or  the  tender  wisdom  they  conveyed.  Those  who  left  him 
might  easily  retire  without  having  any  particular  saying 
to  report,  but  never  without  an  admiration  of  mental  rich- 
ness and  striking  expression.  His  respect  for  conversa- 
tional power  made  him  like  the  presence  of  those  who 
possessed  it.  But  this'was  not  at  all  necessavy  for  his  own 
excitement,  for  he  never  uttered  a  word  for  display,  and 
was  never  in  better  flow  than  in  the  ordinary  society  of 
those  he  was  attached  to,  however  humble  their  powers, 
and  although  they  could  give  him  no  aid  but  by  affection 
and  listening.  There  was  so  much  in  his  own  head  and 
heart,  that,  in  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  pouring  it  out 
was  enjoyment  enough.  It  may  appear  an  odd  thing  to 
say,  but  it  is  true,  that  the  listener's  pleasure  was  enhanced 
by.  the  personal  littleness  of  the  speaker.  A  large  man 
could  scarcely  have  thrown  off  Jeffrey's  conversational 
flowers  without  exposing  himself  to  ridicule.  But  the 
liveliness  of  the  deep  thoughts,  and  the  flow  of  the  bright 
expressions  that  animated  his  talk,  seemed  so  natural  and 
appropriate  to  the  figure  that  uttered  them,  that  they  were 
heard  with  something  of  the  delight  with  which  the  slen- 
derness  of  the  trembling  throat,  and  the  quivering  of  the 
wings,  make  us  enjoy  the  strength  and  clearness  of  the 
notes  of  a  little  bird. 

But  it  is  idle  in  any  one  to  speak  on  this  subject  after 
what  has  been  said  by  one  of  the  greatest  masters  and  best 
critics  of  conversation.  Sir  James  Mackintosh  says,  (Me- 
moirs, vol.  ii.  p.  251:)  "  We  saw,  for  the  first  time,  Playfair 
and  Jeffrey  ;  the  first,  a  person  very  remarkable  for  under- 


284  LIFE   OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

standing,  calmness,  and  simplicity  ;  the  second  more  lively, 
fertile,  and  brilliant,  than  any  Scotchman  of  letters ;  with 
more  imagery  and  illustration  added  to  the  knowledge  and 
argumentative  powers  of  his  country  ;  and  more  sure  than 
any  native  of  this  island  whom  I  have  seen,  to  have  had 
splendid  success  in  the  literary  societies  of  Paris."  If  this 
was  true  in  1812,  when  Sir  James  wrote  it,  it  was  much 
truer  in  1834,  when  Jeffrey  left  London,  and  when  he  had 
had  more  experience  of  life,  and  had  seen  a  greater  variety 
of  people,  and  had  been  more  ripened  by  time. 

He  took  his  seat  on  the  bench  on  the  7th  of  June,  1834. 
The  Scotch  Judges  are  styled  Lords  ;  a  title  to  which  long 
usage  has  associated  feelings  of  reverence  in  the  minds  of 
the  people,  who  could  not  now  be  soon  made  to  respect  or 
understand  Mr.  Justice.  During  its  strongly  feudalized 
condition,  the  landholders  of  Scotland,  who  were  almost 
the  sole  judges,  were  really  known  only  by  the  names  of 
their  estates.  It  was  an  insult,  and  in  some  parts  of  the 
country  it  is  so  still,  to  call  a  laird  by  his  personal,  instead 
of  his  territorial  title.  While  this  custom  was  universal,  a 
man  who  was  raised  to  the  bench  naturally  took  his  estate's 
name  with  him,  because  it  was  the  only  name  that  he  was 
known  by.  Even  lairds  came,  however,  in  time  to  be  iden- 
tified by  their  Christian  and  surnames.  Yet,  for  a  while, 
the  fashion  of  sinking  the  individual  appellation,  and  car- 
rying the  landed  one  to  the  judgment-seat,  lingered ;  not 
always  from  vanity,  but  because  it  was  natural  for  land- 
holders to  dignify  themselves  by  their  estates,  and  their 
estates  by  their  judicial  office.  But  this  assumption  of  two 
names,  one  official  and  one  personal,  and  being  addressed 
by  the  one  and  subscribing  by  the  other,  is  wearing  out, 
and  will  soon  disappear  entirely.  Jeffrey  had  land  enough 
to  entitle  him  to  sink  his  honoured  name  in  that  of  his  bit 
of  eajrth ;  but,  like  many  others,  he  did  not  choose  to  do 
it,  and  became  Lord  Jeffrey. 

He  had  to  be  in  court  at  nine,  which  alarmed  him  more 


AS   A   JUDGE.  285 

than  any  thing  else  in  his  new  situation.  He  tells  Mr. 
James  Craig,  Edinburgh,  one  of  his  most  cherished  friends, 
(26th  of  December,  1834  :)  "  I  have  certainly  had  rather 
hard  work,  but  I  do  not  find  it  irksome.  Even  the  early 
rising,  which  I  dreaded  the  most,  proves  very  bearable. 
Certainly  in  the  whole  of  my  past  life,  I  never  saw  so 
many  sun-rises  as  since  the  beginning  of  November,  and 
they  have  been  inexpressibly  beautiful." 

From  the  very  first  moment  of  his  judicial  appointment 
he  cast  all  politics  aside ;  not  his  interest  in  them,  for  this 
would  have  been  to  have  relinquished  his  reason,  but  his 
practical  interference  with  them  as  a  party  man.  If  the 
election  of  his  best  friend,  and  of  the  best  member  of  par- 
liament, had  depended  on  his  vote,  that  candidate  would 
have  lost  the  return.  The  most  magnificent  public  dinner 
ever  given  in  Edinburgh  was  that  to  the  late  Earl  Grey, 
on  the  15th  of  September,  1834,  immediately  after  the  first 
meeting  here  of  the  British  Association.  He  sighed  at  not 
being  there,  fresh  as  he  was  from  all  his  personal  and  offi- 
cial connection  with  the  object  of  the  festival.  But  he 
would  not  attend  ;  and  his  only  allusion  to  it  in  writing  to 
Mrs.  Craig,  about  the  recent  scenes,  is  so  faint  as  scarcely 
to  be  visible :  "  You  know  we  have  had  a  stirring  time  of 
it  for  the  last  months  in  these  latitudes  ;  first  with  our  Sa- 
vans,  and  then  with  our  politicians,;  and  that  our  quiet 
home  has  been  agitated  by  the  residence  of  chancellors  and 
other  dignitaries,  and  our  provincial  dulness  enlivened  by 
the  resort  of  vagrant  metropolitans  without  number.  But 
the  tumult  is  now  over.  The  comets  have  all  swept  beyond 
our  orbit,  and  left  us  to  the  steadier  influences  of  our  old 
moon  and  stars  ;  and  here  we  are  in  our  contented  obscuri- 
ty, and  well  enough  pleased  with  our  leisure  and  stupidity. 
It  is  the  loveliest  weather ;  so  calm,  and  bright,  and  warm, 
that,  but  for  the  shortening  days,  it  might  still  be  mistaken 
for  midsummer.  And  the  early  twilights  only  give  a  more 
solemn  character  to  its  sweetness,  and  make  me  think  more 


286  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

deeply  and  tenderly  of  the  summers  that  are  gone,  and  the 
eternal  summer  that  is  coming,  never  to  pass  away.  Well, 
there  is  comfort  in  these  thoughts,  and  you  will  not  think 
them  fantastical." — (5th  October,  1834.) 

The  general  course  of  his  life,  after  becoming  a  judge, 
exclusive  of  that  part  of  it  which  was  passed  in  court,  was, 
that  he  was  in  London  or  its  neighbourhood  almost  every 
spring,  at  Craigcrook  all  autumn,  and  in  Edinburgh  all 
winter ;  and  that  the  hospitalities  of  his  town  and  his  coun- 
try residences  went  on  nearly  as  they  used  to  do.  During 
the  sitting  of  the  court,  the  performance  of  his  official 
duties  exhausted  nearly  his  whole  day,  the  evenings  espe- 
cially ;  and  his  spare  time,  whether  during  his  sittings 
or  in  vacation,  was  given  to  society,  to  correspondence,  to 
•walking,  to  lounging  in  his  garden,  and  to  the  gratification 
of  his  appetite  for  reading.  For  the  indulgence  of  this  last 
passion,  he  was  very  little  indebted  to  any  thing  that  could 
be  called  a  library  of  his  own.  For  a  lover  of  books,  and 
for  one  who  had  picked  up  a  few,  his  collection  was  most 
wretched ;  and  so  ill  cared  for  that  the  want  even  of  vo- 
lumes never  disturbed  him.  The  science  of  binding  he  knew 
nothing  about,  and  therefore  despised,  and  most  of  his 
books  were  unbound.  These  slatternly  habits  all  arose 
from  his  believing  that-books  were  only  meant  to  be  read; 
and  that,  therefore,  so.  as  their  words  were  visible,  nothing 
else  was  required.  It  must  have  been  in  a  moment  of  in- 
firmity that  such  a  heretic  allowed  himself  (30th  January, 
1826)  to  be  made  a  member  of  the  Bannatyne  Club,  the 
only  book  association  of  the  kind  with  which  he  was  ever 
connected. 

In  1835  he  completed  the  beauty  and  comfort  of  Craig- 
crook  by  making  his  last  and  greatest  addition  to  the  house. 
In  doing  so  he  took,  and  followed  the  advice  of  his  friend 
William  Playfair,  Esq. — an  architect  of  whom  Edinburgh 
is  justly  proud,  and  who  will  leave  many  monuments  of  his 
taste  in  the  edifices  that  adorn  it.  This  operation  forced 


SKELMORLIE.  287 

him  to  quit  the  place  for  this  summer ;  and  he  found  a  re- 
treat at  Skelmorlie,  an  old  castle  on  the  southern  shore  of 
the  Clyde,  (the  most  beautiful  of  all  British  friths,)  with 
the  sea  at  its  feet,  and  glorious  prospects  of  Arran  and 
Argyllshire  on  the  opposite  side.  "  I  have  enjoyed  my 
leisure  exceedingly ;  perhaps,  I  should  say,  my  solitude, 
and  certainly  the  entire  sobriety,  which  (out  of  solitude)  is 
so  difficult  for  some  people  to  maintain.  I  have  done 
nothing  ever  since  I  came  ;  to  my  heart's  content,  and  with 
a  deep  feeling  of  repose  and  tranquillity,  which,  except  for 
hours  and  half-hours,  I  have  scarcely  known  for  the  last 
five  years.  I  do  not  rise  early-;  yet  not  late.  Breakfast 
leisurely  in  a  cool  massive  parlour,  with  deep-set  windows 
on  three  sides,  one  looking  through  a  loophole  of  the  wood 
out  on  the  silver  sea ;  study  the  newspapers  as  a  man  must 
do  on  a  remote  island ;  lounge  about  in  the  woods ;  read 
idle  snatches  of  Shakspeare,  and  Fletcher,  and  Keats,  and 
Shelley ;  sit  watching  seals,  and  porpoises,  and  yachts,  and 
steam-vessels,  and  clouds  playing  with  the  peaks  of  Arran, 
and  the  little  waves  that  are  splashing  round  my  feet,  and 
the  wild  thyme,  and  the  bees,  and  the  white  houses  gleam- 
ing round  the  shores  of  the  mountains,  bays,  and  promon- 
tories before  me ;  and  the  shells  and  pebbles  that  engaged 
the  leisure  of  Scipio  and  Loelius,  in  a  world  in  which  no- 
thing was  like  our  wbrld  but  the  said  shells  and  pebbles, 
and  the  minds  of  virtuous  men  resting  from  their  labours. 
Well,  will  you  not  come  and  see  ?  only  I  will  not  go  to 
Arran,  or  any  other  foreign  port,  on  or  beyond  seas,  on 
any  consideration."  "  I  have  bathed  twice,  yet  I  have  still 
dyspepsy.  Herrings  are  scarce,  and  salmon  plenty,  though 
rather  of  a  poor  description.  The  whitings  are  not  so  fine 
as  they  used  to  be.  Milk  and  eggs  excellent,  and  (for  those 
who  dare  eat  them)  the  most  beautiful  cherries  in  the 
world."— (To  me,  25th  July,  1835.) 

He  wrote  to  me,  (22d  August,  1835,)  that  «  The  only 
want  I  feel  is  of  some  vigorous  intellect  to  grapple  with. 


288  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

I  do  not  know  whether  poor  Sir  Harry's  idiocy  of  rustica- 
tion is  beginning  with  me  ;*  but  I  certainly  feel  that  I  read 
more  passively  than  1  u>fd  to  do,  and  flatter  myself  that  I 
am  wisely  taking  in  materials  for  after  suggestion,  when  I 
am  truly  storing  up  food  for  oblivion  only ;  but  I  am  very 
resigned  any  way,  and,  after  three  score,  perhaps  nothing 
better  is  to  be  desired." 

Since  he  only  wanted  a  vigorous  intellect  to  grapple 
with,  I  again  exhorted  him,  but  not  very  seriously,  for  I 
knew  it  was  in  vain,  to  grapple  with  his  own,  by  trying 
some  work  of  original  composition.  To  this  he  says  :  »  I 
have  been  delighting  myself  with  Mackintosh.  I  only  got 
the  book  two  days  ago,  and  have  done  nothing  but  read  it 
ever  since.  The  richness  of  his  mind  intoxicates  me.  And 
yet  do  not  you  think  he  would  have  been  a  happier  man, 
and  quite  as  useful  and  respectable,  if  he  had  not  fancied 
it  a  duty  to  write  a  great  book.  And  is  not  this  question 
an  answer  to  your  exhortation  to  me  to  write  a  little  one  ? 
I  have  no  sense  of  duty  that  way,  and  feel  that  the  only 
sure  or  even  probable  result  of  the  attempt  would  be  hours 
and  days  of  anxiety,  and  unwholesome  toil,  and  a  closing 
scene  of  mortification." — (28th  August,  1835.) 

It  would  have  been  no  such  thing.  It  would  have  given 
him  occupation,  usefulness,  and  fame.^The  obstinate  weak- 
ness of  this  feeling  recurs  to  us,  now  that  it  is  all  over,  with 
increased  pain.  No  man  could  more  certainly  have  charmed 
posterity  by  some  great  original  work.  We  have  lost  it  by 
his  periodical  writing. f 

*  Sir  Harry  Moncrieff  used  to  say  that  no  man  long  accustomed  to 
the  habits  of  an  active  city  life  of  business,  could  retire  and  muse  in  the 
country  for  six  months,  without  becoming  an  idiot. 

j-  "  You  must  some  day  or  other  bring  your  thoughts  on  the  philosophy 
of  poetry  and  poetic  expression  into  the  form  of  a  systematic  essay ; 
•which  I  shall  insist  on  your  publishing  with  much  care.  That,  and  a 
little  treatise  on  the  ethic"s  of  common  life,  and  the  ways  and  means  of 
ordinary  happiness,  are  the  works  which  I  bespeak  from  you  for  after- 
times."-  (Ilorner  to  Jeffrey,  Memoirs,  ii.  53.) 


LORD   RUTHERFURD.  289 

However,  while  at  Skelmorlie,  he  wrote  the  excellent 
article  published  in  the  Review,  in  October,  (No.  125,.  art. 
11,)  in  which  he  records  the  grounds  of  his  so  loving  and 
admiring  Sir  James. 

He  was  gratified  next  year  by  an  event  which  gave  him 
the  greatest  satisfaction.  He  had  become  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Andrew  Rutherfurd,  soon  after  the  latter  had  entered 
the  Faculty  of  Advocates  in  1812,  and  had  very  early 
marked  and  cherished  him  as  a  young  man  of  great  pro- 
mise. Their  acquaintance  soon  grew  into  friendship,  and 
was  followed  by  habits  of  the  most  intimate  confidence.  It 
was  with  the  greatest  delight,  therefore,  that  in  the  spring 
of  1837,  he  witnessed  his  friend's  first  advance  into  public 
life  by  his  promotion  to  the  office  of  Solicitor-General.  He 
,knew  that  it  opened  the  way  to  the  higher  station  of  Lord- 
Advocate,  for  which  he  held  Mr.  Rutherfurd  to  be  pre- 
eminently qualified.  He  was  not  disappointed.  In  about 
two  years  the  solicitor  was  raised  to  this  situation  which 
he  held,  with  some  political  interruptions,  till  1851,  when 
he  became  a  judge.  He  was  not  allowed  to  accomplish  all 
that  he  intended ;  but  he  did  enough  to  have  his  official 
history  recorded  in  some  of  the  wisest  changes  that  have 
recently  improved  the  legal  and  economical  condition  of 
this  country.  The  statute  (11  and  12  Victoria,  chap.  36) 
which  dissolves  the  iron  fetters  by  which,  for  about  160 
years,  nearly  three-fourths  of  the  whole  land  in  Scotland 
was  made  permanently  unsaleable,  and  unattachable  for 
debt,  and  every  acre  in  the  kingdom  might  be  bound  up, 
throughout  all  ages,  in  favour  of  any  heirs,  or  any  condi- 
tions that  the  caprice  of  each  unfettered  owner  might  be 
pleased  to  prescribe,  was  his  great  work.  Prejudice  pre- 
vented him  from  correcting  the  absurdities  of  our  marriage 
law,  and  from  introducing  a  humane  system  of  police  for 
destitute  lunacy ;  but  it  may  be  predicted  with  absolute 
certainty  that  these  measures  will  .be  passed  one  day ;  and 
on  that  day  he  will  be  remembered.  Meanwhile,  he  did 
T  25 


290  LIFK   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

enough  to  make  his  brethren  of  the  bar  take  the  rare  step, 
on  his  recent  elevation  to  the  bench,  of  recording  "  the 
high  satisfaction  with  which  they  have  witnessed  the  pro- 
motion of  another  distinguished  member  of  the  bar — the 
late  Lord-Advocate ;  to  whom  the  country  and  the  profes- 
sion- are  deeply  indebted  for  important  public  services ;  and 
expressing  their  hope  that  Lord  Rutherfurd  may  long  be 
enabled  to  devote  the  eminent  talents  which  have  adorned 
his  professional  and  official  career,  to  the  administration  of 
those  laws  which  his  legislative  measures  have  so  materially 
contributed  to  mature  and  improve." — (Faculty  Resolu- 
tion, 23d  May,  1851.)  Jeffrey  did  not  live  to  bear  a  tes- 
timony, in  the  justice  of  which  he  would  have  cordially 
rejoiced.  There  was  no  one,  in  point  of  time  in  the  se- 
condary formation  of  his  friendships,  to  whom,  in  public 
proceedings  and  in  private  life,  he  was  more  thoroughly 
united ;  and  the  nearness  of  their  two  beautiful  country 
places  gave  them  peculiar,  opportunities  of  discussion  and 
enjoyment. 

On  the  9th  of  March,  1838,  he  joined  a  large  party  who 
dined  together  in  honour  of  the  late  Sir  William  Allan, 
whose  professional  eminence  had  raised  him  to  the  second 
presidency  of  the  Royal  Scottish  Academy.  Sir  William 
was  the  immediate  object  of  the  meeting ;  but  it  had  an 
indirect  and  more  important  reference  to  that  extraordi- 
nary rise  in  art,  which,  both  in  the  native  artists  we  have 
retained,  and  m  those  we  have  given  England,  has  distin- 
guished the  modern  progress  of  Scotland  ;  and  on  account 
of  which  the  Academy  had  been  recently  established. 
Jeffrey  made  a  striking  address ;  expressive  of  his  belief, 
and  its  reasons,  that,  in  spite  of  its  northern  sky,  this 
country  might  attain  as  much  eminence  in  art  as  it  had 
already  done  in  other  intellectual  pursuits.  The  thirteen 
years  that  have  since  passed  have  greatly  tended  to  con- 
firm the  soundness  of  this  opinion. 

On  the  27th  of  June,  1838,  his  daughter  was  married 


INSCRIPTION   FOR   SCOTl's    MONUMENT.  291 

to  William  Empson,  Esq.,  Professor  of  Law  at  the  East 
India  College,  Haileybury ;  a  union  from  which,  after  the 
pang  of  parting  with  his  only  child  was  over,  he  derived 
the  greatest  delight.  Besides  deepening  and  extending  his 
domestic  affections,  it  multiplied  his  refreshing  visits  to 
England,  and  enlivened  his  autumns  by  the  Empsons'  re- 
turns to  Craigcrook ;  and  it  gave  him  those  nice  little 
grandchildren,  some  of  them  living  with  him  almost  always, 
in  whom  his  heart  was  wrapt. 

In  1840  he  tried  his  hand,  for  the  first  time,  upon  a 
monumental  inscription.  It  was  for  the  foundation  stone 
of  Scott's  Monument.  He  was  requested  by  the  committee 
to  furnish  it,  but  refused  at  first,  believing  himself  incapa- 
ble. At  last,  as  he  was  walking  out  one  day  to  Craigcrook, 
it  occurred  to  him  as  an  odd  thing  to  write  what  was  meant 
never  to  be  seen,  and  this  led  him  on,  and  before  he  had 
reached  home,  he  had  composed  the  following  rather  strik- 
ing statement : — 

"THIS    GRAVEN    PLATE, 

DEPOSITED   IN    THE    BASE    OF    A   VOTIVE    BUILDING 
ON    THE    FIFTEENTH    DAT    OF    AUGUST    IN    THE    TEAR    OF    CHRIST    1840, 

AND    DESTINED    NEVER    TO    SEE    THE    LIGHT    AGAIN 

TILL    THE    SURROUNDING    STRUCTURES    ARE    CRUMBLED    TO    DUST 

BT    THE    DECAT    OF    TIME,    OR    BT    HUMAN    OR    ELEMENTAL    VIOLENCE, 

MAT    THEN    TESTIFT    TO    A    DISTANT    POSTERITT    THAT 

THE  CITIZENS  OF  EDINBURGH  BEGAN  ON  THAT  DAT 
TO    RAISE    AN    EFFIGT    AND    AN    ARCHITECTURAL    MONUMENT 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT; 

WHOSE    ADMIRABLE    WRITINGS    WERE    THEN    ALLOWED 

TO    HAVE    GIVEN    MORE    DELIGHT,    AND    SUGGESTED    BETTER    FEELINGS 
TO    A    LARGER    CLASS    OF    READERS    IN    EVERT    RANK    OF    SOCIETT  * 

THAN    THOSE    OF    AXT    OTHER    AUTHOR, 

WITH    THE    EXCEPTION    OF    SHAKSPEARE    ALONE: 

ANT)    WHICH     THEREFORE    WERE     THOUGHT     LIKELT     TO     BE     REMEMBERED 

LONG    AFTER    THIS    ACT    OF    GRATITUDE, 

ON    THE    PART    OF    THE    FIRST    GENERATION    OF    HIS    ADMIRERS, 
SHOULD    BE    FORGOTTEN. 


HE    WAS     BORN     AT     EDINBURGH     lOTH     AUGUST,      1771  ; 
AND  DIED  AT  ABBOTSFORD,   21ST  SEPTEMBER,   1832." 


292  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year  he  wrote  the  article  on  Wil- 
berforce's  Correspondence,  which  was  published  in  No. 
145  of  the  Review. 

On  Saturday,  the  5th  of  June,  1841,  instead  of  receiving 
the  engaged  Craigcrook  party,  he  gave  his  friends  a  dread- 
ful fright  by  fainting  in  court.  The  attack  was  so  severe 
and  so  sudden,  that  if  his  friend  Mr.  Thomas  Maitland,* 
who  happened  to  be  pleading  before  him,  had  not  made  a 
spring  and  caught  him,  he  must  have  fallen.  He  soon  re- 
covered from  the  direct  attack,  which,  in  itself,  was  found 
not  to  be  material,  though  by  no  means  insignificant  as  a 
symptom.  In  renewing  the  party  for  the  Saturday  follow- 
ing, he  hopes  that  they  will  come,  "  to  let  me  repair,  in 
some  degree,  the  shabby  trick  I  played  you  last  week." 

But  this  trick,  or  its  cause,  affected  him  longer  than  he 
anticipated.  He  could  not  resume  the  performance  of  his 
duties  in  court,  beyond  a  few  feeble  attempts,  that  session ; 
and  after  lingering  in  Edinburgh,  which  was  thought  safer 
than  Craigcrook,  till  August,  he  went  to  Haileybury.  He 
was  soon  attacked  there  so  severely  by  bronchitis,  that  his 
life  was  scarcely  preserved.  Foreseeing  that  he  could  not 
be  in  court  when  it  met  about  the  middle  of  November,  he 
was  inclined  to  resign  instantly.  Being  exhorted  to  think 
well  before  taking  such  a  step,  as  there  might  be  opposite 
views  even  of  its  high-mindedness,  he  said,  "  I  very  much 
agree  with  you  as  to  resignation.  Nothing  in  this  world 
shall  induce  me  to  retain  office  a  single  hour  after  I  am 
permanently  disabled  from  its  duties.  That  I  have  always 
thought  nothing  less  indeed  than  the  meanest  of  dishones- 
ties. But,  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  strong  probability 
is  that  the  disability  will  prove  temporary  only,  there  would 
plainly  be-  a  similar  dishonesty  in  snatching  at  idleness,  and 
a  retiring  allowance,  by  representing  it  as  permanent." — 
(To  me,  30th  October,  1841.) 

*  Since  Solicitor-General, 'and  afterward  Lord  Dundrennan,  one  of 
the  judges. 


DECLINING    HEALTH.  293 

Application  was  made  to  the  Home  Office  for  leave  of 
absence,  and  this  was  at  once  granted  in  very  handsome 
terms. 

He  went  to  London  about  the  17th  of  November  for 
advice,  and  remained  there  for  some  months.  A  formal 
explanation  of  his  exact  state,  though  not  justifying  any 
despair,  was  enough  to  have  alarmed  most  men,  but.  was 
cheerfully  received  by  him.  "  I  had  my  grand  consulta- 
tion of  three  doctors  on  Sunday,  having  called  in  Chambers 
in  aid  of  the  other  two ;  and  the  result  was  very  much,  as 
I  think  I  told  you,  the  council  of  two  had  intimated  before, 
viz.  that  though  there  was  no  organic,  or  special  progres- 
sive disease,  I  must  not  expect  ever  to  be  much  better  than  I 
now  am,  and  should  lay  my  account  with  always  suffering 
in  a  degree  from  weak  and  disordered  circulation,  and  being 
liable  to  occasional  bronchial  irritation.  Few  people,  they 
said,  get  to  my  time  of  life  without  finding  some  of  the 
vital  functions  impaired  or  disordered,  and  I  had  used  up 
my  vitality,  and  tasked  my  powers,  they  believed,  a  great 
deal  more  prodigally  than  the  common  run  of  their  pa- 
tients. Still,  however,  as  all  the  machinery  seemed  sub- 
stantially sound,  and  energy  enough  left  still  to  work  it  for 
ordinary  purposes,  they  thought,  by  due  care  and  caution, 
and  sparing  myself,  both  mind  and  body,  for  the  future, 
they  saw  no  cause  why  I  should  not  merely  live  on  in  good 
comfort  for  many  years  to  come,  but  even  improve  consider- 
ably on  my  present  condition ;  and  at  all  events  to  such 
an  extent  as  to  enable  me  to  do  all  the  work  that  ought 
ever  to  tye  required  from  a  person  of  my  standing.  Jsfow 
this,  it  must  be  owned,  is  not  over  and  above  encouraging, 
and  amounts,  I  think,  to  a  pretty  distinct  intimation  that 
my  May  of  life  (though  there  is  some  impudence,  I  own,  in 
my  usurping  the  name  of  that  month)  is  fallen  into  the  sere 
and  yellow  leaf,  and  that  I  must  hereafter  live  a  regulated, 
careful,  valetudinarian  sort  of  life.  No  more  dining  out, 
or  giving  dinners,  or  appearing  at  the  best  like  a  death's 

25* 


294  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

head  at  these  festivals,  and  puling  upon  two  slices  of  meat 
and  two  glasses  of  sherry  !  No  going  out  at  night,  or  sit- 
ting up  late  to  write  or  read,  wearing  trot  cosies  and  com- 
forters, taking  no  long  fast  walks,  and  shrinking  from  au- 
tumn showers  and  spring  breezes.  I  do  not  pretend  to  like 
such  an  Avenir  ;  but  as  I  suppose  I  cannot  help  myself,  I 
try  to  make  the  best  of  it,  and  if  I  can  only  make  sure  of 
that  <  which  should  accompany  old  age,'  and  escape  the 
danger  of  <  curses'  or  'mouth  honour,'  I  dare  say  I  shall 
get  on  very  well ;  only  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  impatient  till 
I  see  some  of  my  brothers  lose  their  tails  also." — (To  me, 
22d  February,  1842.) 

He  gave  a  similar  account  of  his  being  fixed,  "  with  regi- 
men and  restraints,"  "on  a  lower  level  of  vitality,"  to  Mr. 
Rutherfurd,  and  adds,  "I  hope  I  shall  submit  to  them 
cheerfully,  and  even  acquire  a  taste  for  the  hermit  and 
self-denying  life  which  I  am  now  entering.  But  just  at 
present,  I  must  honestly  confess,  I  would  have  preferred 
sticking  a  little  longer  to  my  pleasant  vices ;  and  cannot 
help  feeling,  too,  like  the  voluptuaries  in  Juvenal,  upon 
whom,  while  they  are  still  calling  for  wine,  women,  and  gar- 
lands, 'obrepit  non  intellecta  Senectus.'  " 

His  letters  and  his  conversations  throughout  this  long 
illness,  and  throughout  all  his  bodily  weaknesses,  were 
always  so  full  of  the  details  and  the  severities  of  his  afflic- 
tions, that  a  stranger  might  conclude,  either  that  his  health 
was  generally  hopeless,  or  that  he  was  a  poor-spirited  pa- 
tient. But  the  truth  is  just  the  reverse.  Though  seized 
by  one  or  two  dangerous  attacks,  and  peculiarly  subject  to 
the  encroaching  infirmities  of  age,  his  life  was  on  the  whole 
healthy,  and  when  necessary,  there  could  scarcely  be  a  more 
resolute  sufferer.  But  a  restless  fancy,  and  an  unfortunate 
sprinkling  of  medical  knowledge,  were  apt  to  set  him  a 
speculating  on  the  structure  and  working  of  his  own  sys- 
tem ;  and  on  this  topic,  so  fertile  and  interesting  to  every 
invalid,  he  of  course  got  easily  eloquent,  generally  to  the 


DEATH  OF  SIR  CHARLES  BELL.         295 

diversion  of  others.  One  of  the  difficulties  that  all  his  doc- 
tors had  to  encounter  was,  to  hear,  and  then  to  refute,  or 
to  evade,  the  theories  of  the  patient.  But  when  any  thing 
had  to  be  submitted  to,  passively  or  actively,  he  did  it 
bravely.  And  the  moment  that  the  self-description  or  self- 
condolence  was  over,  or  even  while  it  was  going  on,  he  was 
ready  for  his  friends.  For  example,  when  he  went  from 
Haileybury  to  London,  on  the  17th  of  November,  1841,  Re 
writes  that  they  were  obliged  to  have  in  the  carriage  "  such 
wrappings,  and  hot  water,  and  wax  candles."  But  in  a 
day  or  two  he  was  receiving  visitors — in  a  few  more  he  was 
driving  out — and  long  before  the  month  was  over,  "  I  con- 
tinue to  drive  out  every  day,  and  think  I  am  less  exhaust- 
ed by  it  than  at  first.  I  have  seen  several  people  for  very 
short  visits — Sydney  Smith,  Macaulay,  Lady  Theresa  Lis- 
ter, Miss  Berry,  Rogers,  Hallam,  Brougham,  Lord  Camp- 
bell, Carlyle,  and  a  few  more — all  of  whom  behaved  very 
well  in  going  away  soon,  and  allowing  me  to  speak  but  lit- 
tle, except ,  who  sat  an  hour,  and  made  me  talk  so 

much,  I  coughed  all  the  evening  after.  I  am  to  see  Dick- 
ens to-morrow,  who  is  just  returned  from  the  country  in 
perfect  health,  and  luxuriating  in  the  honeymoon  of  his 
year  of  idleness." — (To  me,  30th  November,  1842.) 

He  left  London  about  the  middle  of  March,  (1842, j  and 
went  for  about  two  months  to  Clifton,  and  then  to  Hailey- 
bury, previous  to  his  return  to  Edinburgh.  At  Haileybury 
he  received  intelligence  of  the  sudden  death  of  Sir  Charles 
Bell,  which  took  place  in  England  on  the  29th  of  April. 
"  This  is  a  sad  blow,  the  loss  of  good,  kind-hearted,  happy 
Charlie  Bell.  It  met  me  here  on  my  arrival.  I  do  not 
know  whether  poor  George  or  his  wife  is  most  to  be  pitied, 
but  the  loss  will  be  terrible  and  irreparable  to  both.  Ex- 
cept George  himself,  I  have  not  so  old  and  intimate  a 
friend  left,  and  it  may  be  a  kind  of  comfort  to  think  that  I 
cannot  have  many  more  such  losses  to  bear.  We  were 
familiar  from  boyhood,  and  though  much  separated  from 


296  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

residence  and  occupation,  never  had  a  notion  of  alienation, 
or  a  cessation  of  that  cordiality  and  reliance  on  each  other's 
affection,  which  is  also  a  comfort  even  now." — (To  me,  8th 
May,  1842.*) 

He  resumed  his  place  in  court,  (in  May,  1842,)  in  a  very 
good  state,  and  continued  in  Scotland  all  the  rest  of  this 
year,  mostly  at  home,  and  in  full  judicial  vigour. 

In  December  he  had  to  endure  another  severe  affliction. 
Mr.  Robert  Morehead  died  on  the  13th  of  that  month.  His 
feelings  on  this  visitation  were  thus  expressed  in  ft  letter  to 
the  widow :  "  My  dear  Margaret — I  need  not  say  that 
Phemie's  communication  gave  us  a  sharp  pang,  and  the 
event  must  have  been  longer  and  more  clearly  foreseen  by 
you,  I  imagine,  than  even  by  us.  But  when  the  blow  does 
at  last  fall,  these  anticipations  do  not  save  us  from  a  shock ; 
and  in  the  case  of  those  whose  strength  has  been  impaired 
by  watching  while  their  thoughts  have  been  partly  dis- 

*  Jeffrey  afterward  wrote  the  following  Epitaph,  which  is  now  on  a 
tablet  in  the  parish  church  of  Hallow,  near  Worcester,  where  Sir  Charles 
was  buried  : — 

SACRED    TO    THE    MEMOBY 
Of 

SIK   CHARLES   BELL, 

Who,  after  unfolding 

With  unrivalled  sagacity,  patience,  and  success, 

The  wonderful  structure  of  our  mortal  bodies, 

Esteemed  lightly  of  his  greatest  discoveries, 

Except  only 

As  they  tended  to  impress  himself  and  others 
With  a  deeper  sense 

of 
The  infinite  wisdom  and  ineffable  goodness 

of 
The  Almighty  Creator. 

He  was  born  at  Edinburgh  in  1774, 
And  di»d  in  England,  29th  of  April,  1842. 


DEATH    OF   ROBERT    MOREHEAD.  297 

tracted  by  constant  occupation,  I  fear  it  is  often  felt  more 
severely  than  they  themselves  are  prepared  for.  I  shall 
therefore  be  anxious  to  learn  that  you  and  dear  Lockey 
and  Phemie  have  not  suffered,  and  that  you  are  bearing 
this  great  affliction  with  courage  and  resignation.  It  must 
always  be  a  great  consolation  to  you  to  know  that  you  not 
only  soothed  and  cheered  his  closing  days  by  your  kind 
and  devoted  attention,  but  that  to  your  constant  and  judi- 
cious care  of  him  for  many  preceding  years  he  was  indebted, 
not  only  for  the  chief  enjoyments  of  these  years,  but  most 
probably  for  their  being  added  to  his  existence.  For  my- 
self, though  unavoidably  much  separated  from  him  of  late 
years,  I  can  truly  say  that  my  love  and  regard  for  him  have 
never  suffered  a  moment's  abatement ;  and  that  though  it 
is  sad  enough,  God  knows,  to  have  to  lament  the  loss  of 
nearly  the  last  of  my  friends  of  early  life,  it  is  still  very 
gratifying  to  look  back  upon  an  intimacy  of  more  than  half 
a  century  with  the  feeling  that  there  never  was  an  hour 
of  misunderstanding  between  us,  nor  a  chill  in  the  warmth, 
or  a  passing  cloud  on  the  brightness  of  our  mutual  affection. 
When  you  can  recur  to  it  without  too  much  pain,  I  think  I 
should  like  to  have  a  more  particular  account  of  his  last 
days,  and  to  know  how  his  patience  and  trust  in  the  Great 
Being  to  whom  he  was  returning,  sustained  him  through  the 
final  struggle.  I  shall  likewise  be  glad,  by  and  by,  to  have 
a  copy  of  the  work  which  occupied  so  many  of  his  parting 
hours ;  and,  above  all,  to  learn  what  changes,  if  any,  in 
your  plans  of  life  and  domestic  arrangements  this  removal 
of  the  head  of  the  house  is  likely  to  occasion.  Poor  little 
Mary  was  very  greatly  moved,  I  understand,  when  the 
melancholy  news  was  broken  to  her.  Charlotte  and  I  have 
had  long  talks  of  you  ever  since,  as  well  as  good  Martha 
Brown,  who  has  this  morning  returned  to  Langfine."--- 
(16th  December,  1842.) 

On  the  22d  of  November  of  this  year,  (1842,)  a  material 
change  took  place  in  his  judicial  position.     According  to 


208  LIFE   OF   LOUD   JEFFREY. 

usage,  he  had  hitherto  been  acting  in  a  court  by  himself, 
where  decisions  are  seldom  given  openly  and  verbally,  but 
in  the  form  of  written  judgments,  with  notes  explanatory 
of  their  reasons,  all  prepared  after  debate  and  considera- 
tion of  written  papers  at  home,  and  every  adjudication 
liable  to  the  review  of  another  branch  of  the  court.  Except 
for  its  comparative  security,  this  situation  was  not  in  all 
respects  unfavourable  for  Lord  Jeffrey.  It  tended  to  re- 
press his  discursiveness,  and  enabled  him  to  enrich  the 
reports  with  many  admirable  opinions  written  deliberately 
by  himself.  But  he  was  now  removed  into  the  first  of  the 
two  divisions  into  which  the  Court  of  Session  is  separated, 
where  he  had  three  brother  judges,  and  more  publicity ; 
where  all  causes  were  argued,  and  all  judgments  delivered, 
in  open  court;  and  there  was  no  review  .except  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  This  was  a  more  difficult  and  responsible 
position.  He  would  have  succeeded  with  any  of  his  breth- 
ren, and  they  with  him ;  but  he  was  certainly  happily 
placed  beside  the  three  with  whom  it  was  his  lot  to  act. 
They  were  all  men  of  talent  and  learning,  fond  of  their 
work,  and  very  friendly  toward  each  other ;  men  by  whom 
even  Jeffrey's  intellect  was  sharpened,  and  before  whom  he 
could  never  be 'too  ingenious  without  detection.  Nothing 
higher  carv  be  said  of  any  tribunal  than  that,  in  addition  to 
the  various  powers  of  Lord  Jeffrey,  it  contained  the  long 
experience  and  great  practical  sagacity  of  the  Lord  Presi- 
dent Boyle  ;  the  acute  and  intelligent  logic  of  Lord  Fuller- 
ton, — combining,  with  rare  felicity,  the  often  separated 
qualities  of  great  fineness  with  great  soundness  of  under- 
standing ;  and  the  curious  talent  of  Lord  Mackenzie — 
amiable  amid  the  fiercest  contention,  and  solving  in  play- 
fulness the  abstrusest  difficulties ;  whose  gentleness  of 
disposition  and  awkward  feebleness  of  manner  contrasted 
amusingly  with  the  riches  of  a  very  working  mind  ;  which, 
whether  exercised  in  courts  or  in  society,  was  always  in- 
trepid and  original.  That  was  as  good  a  court  as  Scotland 


JUDICIAL    EMINENCE.  299 

ever  saw  ;  and  these  four  men  would  have  elevated  any  ju- 
dicial tribunal,  in  any  country  to  the  law  of  which  they 
might  have  been  trained.  Jeffrey  was  much  attached  to 
them  all.  Fullerton,  indeed,  and  Mackenzie,  were  his  old 
personal  friends. 

Notwithstanding  one  questionable  habit,  the  judicial  du- 
ties have  rarely  been  better  performed  than  they  were  by 
him.  His  ability  need  not  be  mentioned — nor  the  sensi- 
tiveness of  his  candour — nor  his  general  aptitude -for  the 
law.  Surpassed,  perhaps,  by  one  -or  two  in.  some  of  the 
more  mystical  depths  of  the  law  of  real  property,  his  gene- 
ral legal  learning  was  more  than  sufficient  to  enable  him, 
after  ordinary  argument,  to  form  sound  views,  and  to  de- 
fend them,  even  on  these  subjects.  The  industry  that  had 
turned  the  vivacity  of  his  youth  to  account,  and  had  marked 
all  his  progress,  followed  him  to  the  bench.  His  opinions 
were  always  given  fully,  and  with  great  liveliness,  and  great 
felicity  of  illustration.  His  patience,  for  so  quick  a  per- 
son, was  nearly  incredible.  He  literally  never  tired  of 
argument,  and  therefore  had  rather  a  leaning  against  all 
devices  for  shortening  proceedings  not  on  matters  of  mere 
form.  This  was  partly  the  result  of  a  benevolent  anxiety 
to  make  parties  certain  that  they  had  at  least  been  fully 
heard ;  but  it  also  proceeded  from  his  own  pleasure  in  the 
game.  Though  not  exactly  denying  the  necessity  of  rules 
for  ending  discussion,  he  scarcely  liked  them;  and  half 
pitied  a  party  whose  desire  to  say  still  more  on  his  own 
matter,  which  was  every  thing  to  him,  was  resisted  for  the 
convenience  of  other  matters,  for  which  he  cared  nothing  ; 
and  has  been  known  to  say,  that  if  there  was  only  one 
cause  in  the  world  it  would  never  end  ;  and  why  should  it  ? 
What  are  other  causes  to  a  man  who  has  not  done  with  his 
own?  He  who  was  inclined  to  hold  this  paradox  must 
have  been  a  very  patient  judge.  It  was  his  patient  activity 
that  reconciled  him  to  it,  even  as  a  paradox. 

The  questionable  thing  in  his  judicial  manner  consisted 


300  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

in  an  adherence  to  the  same  tendency  that  had  sometimes 
impaired  his  force  at  the  bar — speaking  too  often  and  too 
long.  He  had  no  idea  of  sitting,  like  an  oracle,  silent,  and 
looking  wise ;  and  then,  having  got  it  all  in,  announcing 
the  result  in  as  many  calm  words  as  were  necessary,  and 
in  no  more.  Delighted  with  the  play,  instead  of  waiting 
passively  till  the  truth  should  emerge,  he  put  himself,  from 
the  very  first,  into  the  position  of  an  inquirer,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  extract  it  by  active  processes.  His  error  lay  in 
not  perceiving  that  it  would  be  much  better  extracted  for 
him  by  counsel  than  it  generally  can  be  by  a  judge.  But 
disbelieving  this,  or  disregarding  it,  his  way  was  to  carry 
on  a  running  margin  of  questions,  and  suppositions,  and 
comments,  through  the  whole  length  of  the  argument. 
There  are  few  judges  in  whom  this  habit  would  be  tolerated. 
It  is  disagreeable  to  counsel,  disturbs  other  members  of  the 
court,  and  exposes  the  individual  to  inaccurate  explanation 
and  to  premature  impression.  But,  as  done  by  Jeffrey,  it 
had  every  alleviation  that  such  a  practice  admits  of.  >  It 
was  done  with  great  talent ;  with  perfect  gentleness  and 
urbanity  ;  solely  from  an  anxiety  to  reach  justice  ;  with  no 
danger  to  the  ultimate  formation  of  his  opinion ;  and  with 
such  kindly  liveliness,  that  the  very  counsel  who  was 
stranded  by  it  liked  the  quarter  from  which  the  gale  had 
blown.  Accordingly,  he  was  exceedingly  popular  with 
everybody,  particularly  with  the  bar ;  and  the  judicial 
character  could  not  be  more  revered  than  it  was  in  him  by 
the  public. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  1843,  that  the  Established 
Church  of  Scotland  was  rent  in  twain,  by  the  secession  of 
those  who  formed  themselves  into  the  Free  Church.  How- 
ever anxious  to  avoid  polemical  matter,  it  would  be  wrong 
not  to  state  what  Lord  Jeffrey's  opinion  was,  since  he  had 
a  very  decided  one,  on  this  the  greatest  event  that  has 
occurred  in  Scotland  since  the  rebellion  in  1745,  if  not 
since  the  Union. 


THE    FREE   CHURCH.  301 

The  contest  at  first  was  merely  about  patronage.  The 
owners  or  patrons  of  livings  insisted  that  the  practice  of 
their  presentees  being  inducted  into  parishes,  if  they  were 
under  no  legal  disqualification,  however  odious  they  might 
be  to  the  parishioners,  which  practice  had  subsisted  for  a 
considerable  period,  should  be  continued  ;  while  the  people 
maintained  that  this  practice  was  a  mere  abuse,  and  one  so 
offensive  that  it  had  for  100  years  been  the  source  of  all 
the  dissent  by  which  the  church  had  been  weakened,  and 
that  popular  unacceptability  was  of  itself  a  ground  on  which 
the  church  courts  were  entitled  to  reject.  Each  of  these 
views  had  its  party  in  the  General  Assembly.  But  this 
point  was  soon  lost  sight  of,  absorbed  in  the  far  more  vital 
question,  whether  the  church  had  any  spiritual  jurisdiction 
independent  of  the  control  of  the  civil  power.  This  became 
the  question  on  which  the  longer  coherence  of  the  elements 
of  the  church  depended.  The  judicial  determination  was, 
in  effect,  that  no  such  jurisdiction  existed.  This  was  not 
the  adjudication  of  any  abstract  political  or  ecclesiastical 
nicety.  It  was  the  declaration,  and  as  those  who  protested 
against  it  held,  the  introduction,  of  a  principle  which  affect- 
ed the  whole  practical  being  and  management  of  the  Esta- 
blishment. On  this  decision  being  pronounced,  those  who 
had  claimed  this  jurisdiction,  which  they  deemed  an  essen- 
tial and  indispensable  part  of  what  they  had  always  under- 
stood to  be  their  church,  felt  they  had  no  course  except  to 
leave  a  community  to  which,  as  it  was  now  explained,  they 
had  never  sworn  allegiance.  They  accordingly  seceded. 
And  the  result  has  been  this : — 

Out  of  an  Established  clergy  of  about  1000  or  1100  mi- 
nisters, 453  left  the  Establishment,  followed  in  general  by 
almost  their  whole  congregations  and  elders.  Their  ad- 
herents in  that  true  Church  of  Scotland  (as  they  deem  it) 
which  then  arose,  have  been  increasing  ever  since,  and  now 
form  739  sanctioned  congregations,  besides  98  preaching 
stations;  being  837  congregations  in  all.  Deducting 


302  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

charges  that  are  vacant,  preaching  stations,  and  congrega- 
tions that  have  not  yet  called  ministers,  which  three  classes 
are  supplied  by  authorized  probationers,  there  are  623 
ministers  on  the  public  Sustentation  Fund.  About  690 
churches  have  been  built,  between  400  and  500  manses, 
about  400  school-houses,  and  a  college.  For  these  and 
other  purposes,  the  people  have  contributed  about  three 
millions  of  pounds  sterling  ;  of  which  £2,475,616  has  been 
paid  into  the  public  account,  and  above  £500,000  has  been 
expended  locally. 

No  public  event  had  occurred  in  Lord  Jeffrey's  time,  in 
•which  he  took  a  deeper  interest,  lie  foresaw  what  was 
coming  above  a  year  before  it  happened,  and  then  said : 
«'  I  am  grieved  to  the  heart  at  the  prospects  of  our  church, 
but  I  think  her  doom  is  sealed ;  all  which  might  have  been 
prevented,  had,"  &c.  "And  what  a  thing  it  is  that  the 

should  have  brought  upon  Scotland  the  infinite 

misery  of  her  Established  Church  being  that  of  a  minority 
of  her  people,  or  at  least  of  her  religious  people." — (To  me, 
2d  February,  1842.)  And  within  a  few  weeks  of  the  event, 
referring  to  one  of  the  unfortunate  discussions  by  which  it 
almost  seemed  as  if  the  object  had  been  to  hide  the  ap- 
proach of  the  catastrophe,  instead  of  intelligently  trying 
to  avert  it,  he  said  :  "  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  tyrannical 
or  short-sighted  discussion  than  that  on  our  poor  church  in 
the  House  of  Lords.  I  am  anxious  to  hear  what  her  cham- 
pions and  martyrs  are  now  doing,  and  what  is  understood 
to  be  their  plan  of  operation  at  the  Assembly.  It  will  be 
a  strange  scene  any  way,  and  I  suppose  there  will  be  a 
separation  into  two  Assemblies,"  &c. — (To  me,  4th  April, 
1843.) 

He  declared  his  opinion  from  the  bench,  to  be  hostile  to 
what  he  held  to  be  the  novelty  sanctioned  by  a  majority  of 
his  brethren,  and  confirmed  in  the  House  of  Lords ;  and, 
on  the  other  aspects  of  the  case,  looking  at  them  without 
ecclesiastical  bigotry,  ambition,  or  faction,  of  which  he 


THE    FREE    CHURCH.  303 

never  had  the  very  slightest  touch,  and  solely  with  a  secu- 
lar eye,  his  feelings  were  entirely  with  the  people. 

His  view  was,  that  in  theory,  and  while  matters  are  all 
open,  every  pretence  of  exclusive  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction 
is  to  be  received  with  distrust  and  alarm ;  but  that  tho 
Church  of  Scotland,  which  had  owed  its  existence  to  its 
defiance  of  the  civil  supremacy  that  had  been  claimed  by 
the  Stuarts,  had  been  revived  when  the  Stuarts  were  put 
down,  as  it  had  been  originally  founded  on  the  very  prin- 
ciple of  its  independence  in  spiritual  matters  ;  that  in  the 
modern  conflict  it  was  demanding  nothing  but  what  had 
immemorially  been  assumed  in  practice,  and  even  in  judicial 
practice,  to  be  its  right ;  that  instead  of  implying  ecclesiasti- 
cal tyranny,  the  system  had  worked  so  well  that  there  never 
was  a  church  better  fitted  for  the  people,  or  to  which  the 
people  were  more  attached ;  that  though,  as  usual  in  such 
collisions,  there  were  faults  and  extravagances  on  all  sides, 
the  dispute  might  have  been  adjusted,  if  government  had 
interfered  under  a  due  intelligence  of  the  danger  ;  but  that 
deluded  by  the  error  that  this  was  not  a  question  with  the 
people,  but  only  with  a  few  restless  priests,  and  alarmed 
for  English  consequences,  and  smiling  at  the  idea  of  clergy- 
men renouncing  livings,  it  virtually  abdicated  its  authority, 
and  never  put  itself  into  the  state  of  mind  necessary  for 
averting  a  danger  which  it  was  assured  did  not  exist ;  that 
the  calamity  might  have  been  almost  avoided  by  the  mere 
concessions  that  were  made  to  the  people  after  it  had  oc- 
curred ;  that  the  church,  as  expounded,  being  a  thing  that 
they  had  never  understood  it  to  be,  honest  men  who  held 
this  opinion  could  do  nothing  but  leave  it;  that  the  hero- 
ism with  which  this  was  done  made  him  "jarowcf  of  his 
country;"  and  that  the  magnificent  sacrifices  by  which, 
year  after  year,  the  secession  had  been  followed,  showed  the 
strong  sincerity  and  the  genuine  Scotticism  of  the  princi- 
ples on  which  the  movement  had  depended. 

He  was  painfully  afflicted  this  autumn  by  the  death  of 


304  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

George  Joseph  Bell,  (2d  September,  1843,)  one  of  his 
earliest  friends ;  an  honest  and  ill-used  man. 

Though  steadily  resisting  all  exhortations  to  write  a  new 
book,  he  was  this  year  induced  to  publish  parts  of  his  old 
ones  in  a  new  form.  His  selected  and  arranged  "  Contri- 
butions to  the  Edinburgh  Review"  were  published  in  No- 
vember ;  with  an  amiable  and  candid  preface,  becoming  his 
age  and  position.  Many  articles  of  greater  power  are  left 
buried  in  the  mass  of  the  original  work,  but  those  he  has 
chosen  to  avow  derive  a  charm  from  their  freedom  from  all 
factious  feelings  and  interests,  and  from  their  recording 
that  enduring  literature  and  philosophy,  to  which  he  de- 
lighted to  recur  in  the  calmness  of  advanced  life,  and  which, 
in  the  midst  of  all  his  contentions,  had  been  the  prevailing 
enjoyments  of  his  earlier  years.  • 

He  sent  me  a  copy  of  the  book  with  the  following  letter: 
"  My  dear  C.,  Though  I  give  scarcely  any  of  these  books, 
I  must  send  one  to  you,  ex  debito  justitice,  since  it  was 
truly  by  your,  not  encouragement  or  advice,  but  command 
and  objurgation,  that  I  was  induced  to  set  about  the  re- 
publication.  On  this  account  I  once  thought  of  dedicating 
it  to  you ;  but  considering  the  nature  of  the  work,  I  ulti- 
mately thought  it  better  to  inscribe  it  to  one  who  had  so 
much  more  connection  with  the  Review.  But  you  must  not 
imagine  that  I  do  not  hold  you  equally  responsible  for  all 
the  blame  it  may  draw  on  me,  as  if  your  name  had  figured 
on  the  front  of  it ;  as  you  know  very  well  that  he  who 
hounds  on  any  one,  under  his  authority,  to  the  commission 
of  an  improper  act,  is  always  regarded  as  the  really  guilty 
party.  I  hope  you  will  think  the  preface  long  enough,  and 
that  as  much  is  said  in  laud  of  the  Review,  as  it  was  fitting 
for  one  of  its  founders  to  say.  I  trust,  too,  that  you  will 
not  be  scandalized  at  the  very  moral  tone  of  my  own  indi- 
vidual professions.  And  so  God  bless  you,  my  dear  Cock- 
burn.  Ever  very  affectionately  yours." — (25  Moray  Place, 
25th  November,  1843.) 


CONTRIBUTIONS   TO   TIIE    REVIEW.  305 

He  was  materially  assisted  in  the  preparation  of  these 
volumes  by  his  friend  Mr.  Thomas  Maitland,  who  helped 
him  in  many  details  with  which  he  would  otherwise  have 
been  perplexed.  In  sending  him  a  copy  of  the  work,  he 
says  :  "You  at  all  events  are  bound  to  judge  of  it  with  in- 
dulgence, since  you  cannot  deny  that  you  not  only  coun- 
selled the  undertaking,  but  tempted  me  to  engage  in  it  by 
putting  into  my  hands  a  sort  of  clue  to  the  labyrinth,  in 
which  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  otherwise  have  trusted 
myself.  I  must  hope,  too,  that  some  little  regard  for  the 
author,  personally,  will  induce  you  to  give  him  what  coun- 
tenance you  can  on  this  occasion." — (25th  November, 
1843.)  Mr.  Maitland  had  been  Solicitor-General  before 
this,  and  was  so  again  in  1846.  In  February,  1850,  he 
became  Jeffrey's  successor  on  the  bench,  with  the  title  of 
Lord  Dundrennan.  But  after  too  short  a  seat  there,  though 
long  enough  to  enable  him  to  give  the  highest  promises  of 
judicial  excellence,  he  was  unexpectedly,  and  to  the  deep 
sorrow  of  his  friends  and  of  the  public,  withdrawn  from  us 
on  the  10th  of  June,  1851. 

Though  now  above  seventy,  his  intellect  was  as  vigorous 
and  his  heart  as  sunny  as  ever.  But  he  wisely  began  to 
think  of  himself  as  an  old,  or,  at  least,  as  a  feeble  man. 
Most  of  his  letters,  about  this  time  and  afterward,  contain 
striking  and  pleasing  accounts  of  his  declining  state. 
"  My  health,"  says  he  to  Mrs.  Fletcher,  «  after  which  you 
inquire  so  kindly,  is  weak  enough  certainly ;  but  chiefly 
from  a  feeble  circulation,  and  not  attended  with  any  worse 
suffering  than  a  good  deal  of  languor  and  weakness,  unac- 
companied, I  am  glad  to  say,  either  by  any  depression 
of  spirits  or  abatement  of  mental  alacrity.  I  have  got 
thvough  our  summer  term  without  being  a  day  out  of  court, 
and  as  alert  in  it,  I  believe,  as  any  of  my  brethren.  But 
I  have  been  obliged  to  observe  a  strict  regimen,  and  to 
take  a  great  deal  more  care  of  myself  every  way  than^  is 
at  all  suitable  to  my  genius  or  habits.  However,  I  con- 
U  26* 


806  LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFRFT. 

tinue  to  hobble  along  the  broken  arches  with  as  good  a 
grace  as  most  of  my  fellow  travellers,  and  wait  with  tran- 
quillity for  the  close,  which  cannot  be  very  distant." — 
(Craigcrook,  24th  July,  1844.) 

This  lady  is  the  widow  of  his  earliest  patron,  Mr.  Archi- 
bald Fletcher,  a  person  toward  whom  his  regard,  like  that 
of  all  who  have  the  happiness  of  knowing  her,  rose  into 
affectionate  veneration. 

The  grace  with  which  he  submitted  to  the  inevitable 
doom  was  indeed  very  remarkable.  His  good  affections 
were  all  retained  and  cherished ;  while  the  feelings  con- 
nected with  irritating  passions  and  disquieting  pursuits 
were  as  entirely  quenched  as  they  ever  can  be  in  this  life. 
When  not  employed  judicially,  which  to  him  was  always 
an  agreeable  occupation,  old  friends,  young  friends,  espe- 
cially the  dear  grandchildren,  books,  and  external  nature, 
were  what  he  lived  in  ;  and  all  his  prospects  of  the  gradual 
and  now  rapid  closing  of  life  were  composed  and  reason- 
able. He  mellowed  so  sweetly,  that  there  was  no  period 
of  his  life  when  he  attracted  more  respect  and  affection 
than  during  its  last  five  years. 

Time  also  changed  his  outward  appearance.  The  bright 
manly  eye  remained,  and  the  expressive  energy  of  the  lips, 
and  the  clear  sweet  voice,  and  the  erect  rapid  gait.  But 
the  dark  complexion  had  become  pale,  the  black  hair  gray, 
the  throat  told  too  often  of  its  weakness,  the  small  person 
had  become  still  smaller,  and  the  whole  figure  evinced  the 
necessity  of  great  care. 

Though  preserving  an  undiminished  relish  of  society,  he 
could  not  indulge  it  as  formerly ;  and,  among  other  pri- 
vations, was  obliged  to  renounce  dinners,  either  given  or 
received.  To  compensate  for  this,  he  (Nov.  1844)  made 
a  sort  of  revival  of  the  social  cheerfulness  of  the  old 
Edinburgh  supper,  without  what  would  now  be  thought  its 
convivial  coarseness.  His  house  was  open  to  his  friends, 
generally  without  invitations,  every  Tuesday  and  Friday 


EVENING    RECEPTIONS.  307 

evening,  from  about  nine  to  twelve,  during  the  four  winter 
months.  The  party  usually  consisted  of  from  about  ten  to 
about  twenty,  or  even  thirty  ladies  and  gentlemen  ;  who, 
instead  of  being  left  to  freeze  in  ceremony,  or  to  evaporate 
in  words,  sat  at  round  tables,  multiplied  according  to  the 
demand,  to  a  moderate  but  not  entirely  a  nominal  refection. 
It  is  needless  to  say,  that  such  an  arrangement  at  that 
hour  produced  excellent  parties.  He  himself  was  always 
in  great  talk ;  especially  with  the  two  or  three  whom  he 
detained  after  the  rest  were  gone.  These  most  agreeable 
meetings  were  kept  up  till  the  winter  of  1848,  when  Mrs. 
Jeffrey's  illness  stopped  them. 

He  asks  in  one  of  his  letters — "  Has  anybody  thought 
of  taking  up  my  Tuesday  and  Friday  evenings  ?  Which, 
upon  looking  back  to  them,  seem  to  me  like  a  faint,  but 
not  quite  unsuccessful,  revival  of  a  style  of  society  which 
was  thought  to  have  some  attractions  in  the  hands  of 
Dugald  Stewart  and  some  others ;  though  I  fear  we  have 
now  fallen  in  an  age  too  late  for  such  a  revival,  and  that 
nothing  but  an  amiable  consideration  for  my  infirmities 
could  have  given  it  the  success  it  had." — (To  me,  Hailey- 
bury,  26th  March,  1845.) 

His  critical  reputation  made  him  be  very  frequently 
applied  to  for  advice  by  persons  disposed  but  afraid  to 
publish  ;  and  Sir  Walter  himself  was  scarcely  readier  to 
assist  them.  I  was  asked,  about  this  period,  to  get  his 
opinion  of  a  MS.  poem  by  Mr.  James  Ballantine,  of  Edin- 
burgh. He  gave  it,  with  considerable  praise,  but  with  an 
advice,  upon  the  whole,  against  publication,  and  decidedly 
against  the  adoption  of  verse  as  a  profession.  Referring 
to  this  admonition,  he  says,  in  another  part  of  the  preced- 
ing letter,  "  I  hope  you  got  (naming  the  poem)  back  in 
safety,  and  have  softened  my  dehortative  to  the  ingenious, 
and,  I  am  persuaded,  amiable  author."  Nobody  could 
stand  so  kindly  administered  an  admonition  better  than 
Mr.  Ballantine,  because  his  other  publications,  both  in 


308  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

verse  and  in  prose,  particularly  his  "Gaberlunzie 'sWaU- •< '," 
a  work  which  Burns  would  not  have  been  anxious  to 
disown,  have  given  him  a  very  high  place  among  the 
writers  of  native  Scotch.  He  is  one  of  the  sensible  men 
who  can  combine  business  with  literature ;  making  the 
muses  grace  the  business,  and  the  business  feed  the  muses. 

He  read  a  good  deal ;  and  present  amusement  being  the 
only  object,  nothing  rational  came  amiss.  "  In  the  mean 
time,  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  am  very  tranquil,  and, 
for  the  most  part,  very  happy  and  comfortable.  I  sleep 
rather  better  than  usual,  have  no  actual  pain,  and  very 
little  oppression  or  discomfort,  so  urgent  as  to  prevent  me 
from  interesting  myself,  quite  as  much  as  formerly,  in 
reading  and  conversation.  I  read  all  the  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress (for  the  first  time  for  fifty  years,  I  believe)  yesterday 
and  the  day  before ;  and  I  am  now  busy  with  the  Life  of 
Wycliffe,  and  the  Memoirs  of  Selina,  Countess  of  Hunt- 
ingdon. So  you  see  I  am  in  a  very  godly  course  of  study." 
(To  me,  4th  September,  1844.) 

"  And  I  have  been  reading  Eldon's  Life  and  Corre- 
spondence, in  which  there  is  much  that  is  curious  and  in- 
structive; and  also  Burke's,  which  is  of  a  higher  pitch,  to 
be  sure,  and  to  me  full  of  the  deepest  interest  and  delight. 
The  greatest  and  most  accomplished  intellect  which  Eng- 
land has  produced  for  centuries,  and  of  a  noble  and  love- 
able  nature." — (Haileybury,  4th  September,  1844.) 

"  I  am  generally  able,  however,  to  take  several  short 
walks  every  day,  and  read  and  converse,  for  the  most  part, 
as  pleasantly  as  ever.  I  have  read  a  good  deal,  and,  if 
with  little  improvement,  at  least  with  much  satisfaction,  al- 
most all  Arnold's  writings,  and  especially  his  Introductory 
Letter  on  History,  which,  though  a  hasty  and  rash  produc- 
tion, and  with  great  gaps,  is  full  of  good  thoughts  and  mas- 
terly views ;  many  French  historical  and  philosophical  works 
of  Thiers,  Mignet,  Barante,  and  others;  most  of  Spenser's 
Fairy  Queen,  Vaughan's  Life  of  Wycliffe,  and  many  bio- 


DEATH    OF   SIDNEY   SMITH.  309 

graphics  of  missionaries,  chancellors,  and  other  worthies, 
together  with  some  novels,  Engiish  and  French,  and  (trans- 
lated) German,  besides  the  saintly  publications  of  which  I 
made  mention  in  my  last.  We  have  still  summer  here." 
(Haileybury,  18th  September,  1844.) 

The  Reverend  Sidney  Smith  died  on  the  22d  of  Febru- 
ary, 1845.  Jeffrey's  feelings  on  this  calamity  are  ex- 
pressed in  the  following  letter  to  Mr.  Smith's  daughter, 
Mrs.  Holland,  on  his  first  seeing  her  father's  "  Fragment 
on  the  Irish  Roman  Catholic  Church:"  "  E.  I.  College, 
Hertford,  2d  April,  1845.  My  very  dear  Saba — I  have 
felt  several  times,  in  the  last  six  weeks,  that  I  ought  to  have 
written  to  some  of  you.  But,  in  truth,  my  dear  child,  I 
had  not  the  courage ;  and  to-day  I  do  it,  not  so  much  be- 
cause I  have  the  courage,  as  because  I  cannot  help  it. 
That  startling  and  matchless  fragment  was  laid  on  my 
table  this  morning,  and  before  I  had  read  out  the  first  sen- 
tence, the  real  presence  of  my  beloved  and  incomparable 
friend  was  so  brought  before  me,  in  all  his  brilliancy,  be- 
nevolence, and  flashing  decision,  that  I  seemed  again  to 
hear  his  voice,  and  read  in  his  eye, — and  burst  into  an 
agony  of  crying.  I  went  through  the  whole  in  the  same  state 
of  feeling, — my  fancy  kindled,  and  my  intellect  illumined, 
but  my  heart  struck  through  with  the  sense  of  our  loss,  so 
suddenly  and  deeply  impressed  by  this  seeming  restoration. 
I  do  not  think  he  ever  wrote  any  thing  so  good,  and  I  feel, 
.mournfully,  that  there  is  no  one  now  alive  who  could  have 
so  written.  The  effect,  I  am  persuaded^will  be  greater  than 
from  any  of  his  other  publications.  It  is  a  voice  from  the 
grave.  It  relieves  me  to  say  all  this,  and  you  must  forgive 
it — God  bless  you  all !  I  have  been  here  ten  days  with 
my  daughter  and  grandchildren,  as  well  as  I  have  been 
through  the  winter,  and  living  an  innocent,  quiet,  patriar- 
chal life,  in  love,  peace,  and  sobriety.  I  merely  passed 
through  London,  and  do  not  feel  tempted  to  encounter  its 


•  '*  f" 

310  LIFE   OP    LORD   JEFFREY. 

^^R. 

perils  or  seductions.  Yet  I  must  run  up  for  a  day  or  two 
to  have  one  more  look  of  the  friends  I  love  there." 

He  was  in  the  south  of  England,  as  usual,  in  1846,  and 
says  of  himself,  while  at  Salterton :  "  Empson  is  back  at 
his  work.  The  rest  wait  for  me  ;  all  very  well,  and  very 
patient.  Beautiful  weather  on  the  whole,  though  not  warm ; 
thermometer  very  steady,  between  fifty-two  and  fifty-eight, 
and  much  sunshine  and  calm,  with  a  fine  deep  murmuring 
sea.  I  creep  out  twice  a  day,  and  lead  a  dreamy,  pensive, 
patient,  poetical  sort  of  existence,  without  energy,  and 
without  ennui,  fallentis  semita  vitce.  I  think  I  could  muse 
on  here  contentedly  enough  till  the  end.  It  would  save 
trouble."— (Salterton,  30th  April,  1846.) 

And  to  Mrs.  Smith,  he  says,  from  Derby,  where  he  had 
been  taken  ill,  on  his  way  home :  "  I  have  indeed  been 
very  ill,  and  recover  but  very  slowly  ;  but  I  have  little  ac- 
tual suffering,  and  hope  to  be  a  little  less  feeble  and  shaky 
yet  before  I  die.  Fortunately,  I  have  no  anxiety,  no  low 
spirits,  though  the  animal  vitality  is  at  times  low  enough, 
God  knows  !  My  affections  and  my  enjoyment  of  beautiful 
nature,  I  thank  heaven,  are  as  fresh  and  lively  as  in  the 
first  poetical  days  of  my  youth ;  and  with  these,  there  is 
nothing  very  miserable  in  the  infirmities  of  age.  We  are 
taking  two  of  our  grandchildren  down  with  us,  and  hope  to 
have  the  whole  household  reunited  at  Cr&igerookey  in  the 
first  days  of  July.  They  are  all  (except  the  poor  patriarch 
who  tells -you  so)  in  the  full  flush  of  hope  and  gayety,  and 
would  make  a  brightness  in  a  darker  home  than  mine." 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  he  arrived  here  in  a  very  tole- 
rable condition,  and  did  his  public  duty  effectually,  and 
enjoyed  his  friends  as  much  as  ever,  though  in  a  quieter  way. 

His  surviving  sister,  Mrs.  Brown,  died  this  autumn.  No 
brother  and  sister  could  love  each  other  more  tenderly. 

He  went  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  in  spring,  1847,  from 
which  he  writes  to  Mrs.  Craig  :  "  It  is  a  great  delight  to  me 
to  have  still,  at  my  age,  so  many  whom  I  can  call  old 


RAGGED   SCHOOL.  311 

friends,  and  I  have  every  day  more  reason  to  applaud 
myself  for  having,  through  life,  been  able  to  attach  myself 
to  young  persons ;  since,  if  it  were  not  so,  I  should  now 
be  without  any  cordial  or  secure  affections,  and  fit  only  to 
enact  the  Methuselah  of  the  family  to  my  poor  grand- 
children."— (16th  April,  1847.)  After  leaving  that  place, 
and  getting  to  London,  he  gives  this  account  of  his  recent 
life  : — "  We  are  just  back  from  three  weeks'  very  sweet, 
tranquil,  and  innocent  seclusion  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  which 
•we  have  left  with  much  affection,  and  some  regret ;  having 
sauntered  and  mused  away  our  hours  in  full  sympathy 
with  the  beautiful  nature  around  us,  and  in  cordial  affec- 
tion, and  entire  independence  of  each  other."  "  We  took  a 
tender  farewell  of  our  Shanklin  Oreads  and  Nereids  yester- 
day, and  after  a  rumbling  drive  across  the  island,  and  a 
tumbling  voyage  across  the  high  swelling  green  waters, 
stopped  with  our  whole  patriarchal  household  of  four  chil- 
dren and  four  nurses,  at  the  very  best  hotel  in  England, 
(the  railway  hotel  at  Gosport ;)  from  which  we  came  whiz- 
zing up  about  two  hours  ago  by  an  express  train,  ninety 
miles  in  two  hours  and  a  quarter." — (To  me,  London,  4th 
May,  184T.) 

Before  leaving  Edinburgh,  he  had  sent  <£oO  in  aid  of 
the  Edinburgh  Ragged  School,  in  the  establishment  of 
which  the  Reverend  Dr.  Guthrie,  a  man  of  unwearying 
benevolence,  chiefly  in  the  haunts  of  neglected  destitution, 
and  one  of  the  most  eloquent  of  living  preachers,  took  so 
able  and  effective  a  lead.  His  hope  was  that  the  school 
was  to  be  open,  honestly  and  liberally,  to  children  of  all 
denominations ;  but  being  told,  whether  accurately  or  not, 
that  there  was  some  doubt  about  this,  and  being  asked  to 
interfere,  he  refused,  saying,  "  I  have  resolved  not  to 
make  my  little  donation  to  Guthrie's  schools  a  title  to  in- 
terfere and  lecture  about  their  management."  "  The  spirit 
you  refer  to  is  lamentable  and  unaccountable  enough,  but 
good  will  be  done  in  spite  of  it ;  and  we  really  must  not 


312  LIFE  OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

lose  heart,  or  hope,  or  even  temper,  because  crotchets  with 
which  we  have  no  sympathy  make  other  good  men  not 
quite  comfortable  coadjutors  in  our  notions'  of  benevo- 
lence."—(To  me,  4th  May,  1847.) 

There  was  no  one  of  the  friends  of  his  later  acquisition 
for  whom  he  had  greater  admiration  or  regard  than  Mr. 
Macaulay ;  and  he  testified  the  interest  which  he  took  in 
this  great  writer's  fame  by  a  proceeding,  which,  consider- 
ing his  age  and  position,  is  not  unworthy  of  being  told. 
This  judge,  of  seventy-four,  revised  the  proof-sheets  of  the 
first  two  volumes  of  the  History  of  England,  with  the  dili- 
gence and  minute  care  of  a  corrector  of  -the  press  toiling 
for  bread ; — not  merely  suggesting  changes  in  the  matter 
and  the  expression,  but  attending  to  the  very  commas  and 
colons — a  task  which,  though  humble,  could  not  be  useless, 
because  it  was  one  at  which  long  practice  had  made  him 
very  skilful.  Indeed,  he  used  to  boast  that  it  was  one  of 
his  peculiar  excellences.  On  returning  a  proof  to  an 
editor  of  the  Review,  he  says,  "  I  have  myself  rectified 
most  of  the  errors,  and  made  many  valuable  verbal  im- 
provements in  a  small  way.  But  my  great  task  has  been 
with  the  punctuation — on  which  I  have,  as  usual,  acquitted 
myself  to  admiration.  And  indeed  this  is  the  department 
of  literature  on  which  I  feel  that  I  most  excel,  and  on 
which  I  am  therefore  most  willing  now  to  stake  my  repu- 
tation ! !" 

During  the  autumn  of  this  year  he  contributed  his  last 
article  to  the  Review.  It  was  the  able  and  elaborate 
paper  on  the  claims  of  Watt  and  Cavendish  as  the  dis- 
coverers of  the  composition  of  water,  which  was  published 
in  January,  1848.  It  would  have  been  better  perhaps  if 
his  final  effort  had  been  on  a  subject  more  congenial  to  his 
favourite  tastes.  But  whether  he  shall  turn  out  to  be  right, 
or  to  be  wrong,  in  assigning  the  palm  to  his  friend  Watt, 
there  can  be  no  question  as  to  the  ability  with  which  the 
evidence  is  discussed.  He  was  always  skilful  in  the  art 


DOMESTIC   AFFLICTIONS.  313 

of  arraying  scientific  proof.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  re- 
sist the  reasoning  of  his  article  in  favour  of  Mr.  Clerk 
being  the  inventor  of  the  manoeuvre  of  breaking  the  enemy's 
line  in  naval  war,  (No.  101,  art.  1 ;)  and  yet  there  is  an 
opposite  and  very  reasonable  view  of  this  matter  among 
good  judges. 

This  year  (1848)  was  clouded  by  several  afflictions. 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  taken  dangerously  ill  at  Haileybury  in 
spring ;  and  though  she  got  better  in  the  course  of  the 
year,  she  never  made  an  entire  recovery.  His  sufferings 
on  this  account  were  very  severe.  His  brother  John  died 
on  the  2d  of  July.  And  in  a  few  weeks  after  this  he  had 
to  submit  to  an  operation  for  the  extraction  of  a  small 
wen  in  his  leg.  It  was  performed,  with  his  usual  skill,  by 
Mr.  Syme.  Though  slight  in  its  own  nature,  it  was  severe 
on  his  nervous  temperament,  and  compelled  him  to  be 
cautious  for  a  considerable  time. 

The  year  1849,  the  last  of  his  life,  was  passed  wholly 
in  Scotland. 

His  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Robert  Morehead,  being  very  ill, 
he  wrote  a  letter  to  her  beginning  thus : — "  Edinburgh, 
9th  February,  1849. — My  ever  dear  Margaret,  I  cannot 
tell  you  how  much  I  have  been  grieved  by  the  account  of 
your  cruel  illness.  You  are  almost  the  only  friend  of  my 
early  life  left  to  me  in  the  world,  and  it  is  sad,  indeed,  to 
think  of  suffering  and  dangers  gathering  round  you  in  the 
evening  of  our  day.  Both  Charlotte  and  I  feel  very 
deeply  for  your  condition.  But  /  have  feelings  and  recol- 
lections in  which  she  can  have  no  share,  and  often  find 
myself  dwelling,  in  my  sleepless  nights,  on  the  scenes  of 
our  youthful  intimacy,  and  the  dawnings  of  that  cordial 
affection  which  it  is  a  great  consolation  to  think  has  ever 
subsisted  unbroken  between  us."  "And  so  heav^p  bless 
and  keep  you  ever,  my  very  dear  Margaret.  I  wish  I  could 
write  to  you  with  a  lighter  heart ;  but  it  is  a  true  and  a  lov- 
ing one,  at  any  rate,  and  that  is  a  soothing  in  all  sorrows ; 

27 


314  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

and  I  trust  that  the  assurance  of  it  may  bring  some  light- 
ening of  affliction  to  you.  With  kindest  remembrances  to 
all  your  family." 

She  died  on  the  18th  of  that  month. 

The  prize  which  he  had  founded  when  Rector  of  Glas- 
gow, though  regularly  awarded,  had  never  been  finally 
arranged.  On  the  6th  of  November,  1849,  he  wrote  a  full 
business  letter  to  Principal  Macfarlane,  putting  it  on  a 
permanent  footing.  He  directs  the  interest  of  the  money 
to  be  laid  out  annually  on  a  gold  medal,  oji  one  side  of 
•which  the  name  of  the  gainer  shall  be  engraved,  and  on 
the  other  the  words  "  Praemium  Solenne  in  Academia 
Glasguensi,  Francisci  Jeffrey  Alumni  olim,  non  immemoris, 
Anno  1820  Rectoris,  Donum."  This  medal  is  to  be  given, 
by  the  votes  of  his  class  fellows,  to  the  most  distinguished 
student  in  the  Greek  class.  The  letter  ends  thus, — "You, 
Sir,  have  long  been  the  only  member  of  your  society  who 
can  remember  me  as  a  student  within  its  walls,  and  it  is 
•with  a  mournful  pleasure  that  I  take  this  opportunity  of 
bringing  myself  individually  to  your  recollection,  and 
soliciting,  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  some  share  of  your 
indulgent  regard.  Since  those  days  of  our  early  youth, 
our  ways  of  life  have  been  widely  apart ;  but  I  can  say 
with  truth,  that  -I  have  always  cherished  a  tender  and 
grateful  recollection  of  the  scenes  in  which  we  first  met, 
and  never  ceased  to  take  an  interest  in  the  pleasing  ac- 
counts that  have  reached  me  of  the  prosperity  and  dis- 
tinction to  which  you  have  attained.  With  my  best 
wishes  for  their  long  continuance  and  increase,  and  with 
every  sentiment  of  respect  and  esteem,  believe  me  always." 

Three  days  after  this  he  left  Craigcrook  and  came  to 
Edinburgh  for  the  winter.  Before  coming  away  he  wrote 
to  the'Empsons.  "  Craigcrook,  Friday,  9th  November, 
1849,  two  o'clock. — Bless  you,  my  dears.  Novissima  hoc 
in  agro  conscribenda  !  I  have  made  a  last  lustration  of  all 
my  walks  and  haunts,  and  taken  a  long  farewell  of  garden, 


LAST   ILLNESS.  315 

and  terrace,  and  flowers,  seas  and  shores,  spiry  towers,  and 
autumnal  fields.  I  always  bethink  me  that  I  may  never 
see  them  again.  And  one  day  that  thought  will  be  a  fact ; 
and  every  year  the  odds  run  up  terribly  for  such  a  con- 
summation. But  it  will  not  be  the  sooner  for  being  antici- 
pated, and  the  anticipation  brings  no  real  sorrow  with  it." 

As  Mrs.  Jeffrey  continued  to  improve,  he  lived  happily 
and  quietly,  and  did  his  official  work  with  alacrity  and  suc- 
cess. Even  when  the  scene  was  just  about  to  close,  there 
were  some  gratifying  exhibitions  of  his  inextinguishable 
kindness  of  spirit  On  the  4th  and  on  the  6th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1850,  he  sent  two  letters  of  advice  and  encouragement, 
one  to  Mr.  Alexander  Maclagan  of  Edinburgh,  and  one  to 
Mr.  John  Crawford  of  Alloa,  each  of  whom  had  presented 
him  with  a  volume  of  his  poems.  Instead  of  turning  from 
them  in  silence,  he  made  each  an  answer  so  warm  with 
friendly  sympathy,  that  they  will  cherish  these  letters  to 
their  latest  hours.  And  on  the  18th  of  January  he  wrote 
that  delightful  letter  to  Mrs.  Smith,  now  in  her  husband's 
works,  in  which  he  retracts  a  previous  dissuasive  against 
the  publication  of  his  friend's  lectures,  and  urges  her,  with 
great  cordiality,  not  to  be  misled  by  his  first  error,  but  to 
give  them  to  the  world.* 

On  Tuesday,  the  22d,  he  was  in  court  for  the  last  time. 
He  was  then  under  no  apparent  illness ;  insomuch  that, 
before  going  home,  he  walked  round  the  Calton  Hill,  with 
his  usual  quickness  of  step  and  alertness  of  gait.  But 
he  was  taken  ill  that  night  of  bronchitis  and  feverish  cold ; 
though  seemingly  not  worse  than  he  had  often  been.  On 
the  evening  of  Friday,  the  25th,  he  dictated  a  letter  to  the 
Lord  President,  saying  that  there  was  no  chance  of  his 
being  in  court  that  week,  "  nor,  I  fear,  very  much  even  for 
the  next.  I  shall  not  write  again  to  you,  therefore,  till  I 

*  At  the  period  of  his  discouraging  opinion,  he  had  read  but  a  few  of 
the  lectures,  and  these  only  in  manuscript. 


816  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

can  point  out  some  prospect  of  again  appearing  in  my  place. 
But  I  do  not  think  it  improbable  that  my  next  communica- 
tion to  you  will  be  to  announce  that  I  have  resolved  to 
resign  my  place  on  the  bench."  On  the  same  evening  he 
dictated  the  last  letter  he  ever  wrote  to  the  Empsons.  In 
reference  to  his  old  critical  habits,  parts  of  it  are  very 
curious.  It  was  long,  and  gave  a  full  and  clear  description 
of  the  whole  course  of  his  illness,  from  which  he  expected 
to  recover,  but  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  continue 
longer  on  the  bench.  "  I  don't  think  I  have  had  any 
proper  sleep  for  the  last  three  nights,  and  I  employ  por- 
tions of  them  in  a  way  that  seems  to  assume  the  existence 
of  a  sort  of  dreamy  state,  lying  quite  consciously  in  my 
bed  with  my  eyes  alternately  shut  and  open,"  enjoying 
curious  visions.  He  saw  "  pa.rt  of  a  proof-sheet  of  a  new 
edition  of  the  Apocrypha,  and  all  about  Baruch  and  the 
Maccabees.  I  read  a  good  deal  in  this  with  much  interest," 
&c.,  and  "  a  huge  Californian  newspaper,  full  of  all  manner 
of  odd  advertisements,  some  of  which  amused  me  much  by 
their  novelty.  I  had  then  prints  of  the  vulgar  old  come- 
dies before  Shakspeare's  time,  which  were  very  disgusting." 
"I  could  conjure  up  the  spectrum  of  a  close  printed  politi- 
cal paper  filled  with  discussions  on  free  trade,  protection, 
and  colonies,  such  as  one  sees  in  the  Times,  the  Economist, 
and  the  Daily  News.  I  read  the  ideal  copies  with  a  good 
deal  of  pain  and  difficulty,  owing  to  the  smallness  of  the 
type>  but  with  great  interest,  and,  I  believe,  often  for  more 
than  an  hour  at  a  time  ;  forming  a  judgment  of  their  merits 
with  great  freedom  and  acuteness,  and  often  saying  to  my- 
self '  This  is  very  cleverly  put,  but  there  is  a  fallacy  in  it, 
for  so  and  so.'  " 

He  died  on  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  Saturday,  the 
26th  of  January,  1850,  in  his  seventy-seventh  year. 

This  event  struck  the  community  with  peculiar  sadness. 
On  the  occasion  of  no  death  of  any  illustrious  Edinburgh 
roan  in  our  day,  was  the  public  sorrow  deeper  or  more 


DEATH   AND    BURIAL.  317 

general.  As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  Jeffrey  was  gone, 
the  eminence  of  his  talents — the  great  objects  to  which  they 
had  ever  been  devoted — his  elevation,  by  gradual  triumphs, 
over  many  prejudices,  to  the  highest  stations — even  the 
abundance  of  his  virtues — were  all  forgotten,  in  the  per- 
sonal love  of  the  man. 

Some  time,  apparently  in  1849,  but  the  exact  date  can- 
not now  be  ascertained,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Empsons, 
with  this  passage, — "  Edinburgh,  Sunday,  7th — I  had  a 
long  walk  with  granny  (Mrs.  Jeffrey)  after  evening  church, 
a  beautiful  setting  sun,  and  long  rays  of  levelled  light 
blazing  upon  tower  and  tree,  and  from  the  high  field  win- 
dows, and  the  sky,  so  crimson  and  yellow,  between  soft 
umbered  clouds.  We  went  into  the  Dean  Cemetery,* 
which  was  resonant  with  blackbirds,  and  looked  invitingly 
peaceful  and  cheerful.  I  rather  think  I  must  have  a  free- 
hold there,  though  I  have  sometimes  had  a  hankering 
after  a  cubiculum  under  those  sweet  weeping  willows  at 
Amwell,  if  one  should  be  called  away  from  the  vicinage." 

He  expressed  the  same  feeling  about  the  cemetery  of  the 
Dean  being  his  resting-place,  to  his  niece  Miss  Brown 
within  about  two  months  of  his  death ;  and  even  pointed 
out  to  her  the  very  spot  where  he  said  it  gave  him  pleasure 
to  believe  that  he  would  be  laid. 

He  was  laid  there  on  the  31st.  Several  proposals  were 
made  for  a  public  funeral ;  but  it  was  thought  better,  and 
certainly  more  conformable  to  his  character,  that  it  should 
be  quite  private. 

A  meeting  of  his  friends  was  held  on  the  7th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1850,  to  consider  the  propriety  of  taking  measures 
for  the  erection  of  a  public  monument  to  his  memory. 
Lord  Dunfermline  was  called  to  the  chair,  and  opened  the 
business  by  a  short,  feeling,  and  sensible  address.  I  had 
the  honour  of  moving  certain  formal  resolutions  for  putting 


*  Near  Edinburgh,  on  the  road  to  Craigcrook. 
27* 


318  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

matters  into  shape.  These  were  seconded,  in  a  few  obser- 
vations, by  Professor  Wilson,  who  said,  "  that  a  monument 
should  be  erected  to  such  a  man,  was  a  demand  from  the 
heart  of  the  nation,  and  would  be  gratifying  in  after  ages 
to  every  lover  of  genius  and  virtue."  A  committee  was 
appointed  to  carry  the  resolutions  into  effect.  William 
Murray,  Esquire,  of  Henderland,  was  chosen  convener  of 
this  committee  ;  a  position  to  which  his  judgment  and  his 
long  friendship  with  the  deceased  well  entitled  him,  and 
which  secured  the  object  being  attained  quietly  and 
effectually. 

Mrs.  Jeffrey  never  recovered  the  shock  of  her  husband's 
death.  She  died  at  Haileybury  on  the  18th  of  May,  and 
on  the  29th  her  remains  were  laid  beside  his. 

A  majority  of  those  present  at  a  meeting  of  the  com- 
mittee on  the  29th  of  November,  1850,  decided  that  the 
monument  should  be  a  marble  statue,  to  be  placed  in  the 
Outer  House.  The  minority  (of  whom  I  was  one)  thought, 
that  as  the  peculiar  merits  and  services  of  Francis  Jeffrey 
were  of  a  popular  nature,  and  not  connected  with  the  law, 
and  that,  as  the  Outer  House,  though  open  to  the  people, 
is  not  habitually  frequented  by  them,  an  architectural 
edifice  would  be  more  appropriate  and  useful.  Mr.  Steell 
has  undertaken  the  execution  of  the  statue,  and  every  thing 
may  be  confidently  expected  from  an  artist  who,  besides 
having  seen  the  original,  has  given  so  many  admirable 
proofs  of  his  skill  and  taste. 

The  best  likeness  of  Jeffrey  that  exists  is  in  the  excel- 
lent portrait  by  Mr.  Colvin  Smith  of  Edinburgh,  from 
which  there  has  been  a  good  engraving. 

And  so  he  passed  away. 


CHARACTER    AND    CSEFULNESS. 

The  preceding  pages  may  enable  those  who  did  not 
know  him  to  imagine  what  he  was  and  what  he  did. 

He  was  not  so  much  distinguished  by  the  predominance 
of  any  one  great  quality,  as  by  the  union  of  several  of  the 
finest.  Rapidity  of  intellect,  instead  of  misleading,  as  it 
often  does,  was  combined  in  him  with  great  soundness  ; 
and  a  high  condition  of  the  reasoning  powers  with  an 
active  and  delightful  fancy.  Though  not  what  is  termed 
learned,  his  knowledge  was  various ;  and  on  literature, 
politics,  and  the  philosophy  of  life,  it  was  deep.  A  taste 
exquisitely  delicate  and  largely  exercised  was  one  of  the 
great  sources  of  his  enjoyment,  and  of  his  unmatched 
critical  skill.  But  the  peculiar  charm  of  his  character  lay 
in  the  junction  of  intellectual  power  with  moral  worth. 
His  honour  was  superior  to  every  temptation  by  which  the 
world  could  assail  it.  The  pleasures  of  the  heart  were 
necessary  for  his  existence,  and  were  preferred  by  him  to 
every  other  gratification,  except  the  pleasures  of  conscience. 
Passing  much  of  his  time  in  literary  and  political  conten- 
tion, he  was  never  once  chilled  by  an  unkind  feeling,  even 
toward  those  he  was  trying  to  overcome.  An  habitual 
gayety  never  allowed  its  thoughtlessness,  nor  an  habitual 
prudence  its  caution,  to  interfere  with  any  claim  of  charity 
or  duty.-  Nor  was  this  merely  the  passive  amiableness 
of  a  gentle  disposition.  It  was  the  positive  humanity  of 
a  resolute  man,  glowing  in  the  conflicts  of  the  world. 

He  prepared  himself  for  what  he  did  by  judicious  early 
industry.  He  then  chose  the  most  difficult  spheres  in 
which  talent  can  be  exerted,  and  excelled  in  them  all ; 
rising  from  obscurity  and  dependence  to  affluence  and 
renown.  His  splendour  as  an  advocate  was  exceeded  by 
his  eminence  as  a  judge.  He  was  the  founder  of  a  new 
system  of  criticism,  and  this  a  higher  one  than  had  ever 
existed.  As  an  editor,  and  as  a  writer,  he  did  as  muoh  to 
improve  his  country  and  the  world,  as  can  almost  ever  be 
done,  by  discussion,  by  a  single  man.  He  was  the  last  of 


320  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

four  pre-eminent  Scotchmen,  who,  living  in  their  own 
country,  raised  its  character  and  extended  its  reputation, 
during  the  period  of  his  career.  The  other  three  were 
Dugald  Stewart,  Walter  Scott,  and  Thomas  Chalmers ; 
each  of  whom,  in  literature,  philosophy,  or  policy,  caused 
great  changes  ;  and  each  left  upon  his  age  the  impression 
of  the  mind  that  produced  them.  Jeffrey,  though  sur- 
passed in  genius  certainly  by  Scott,  and  perhaps  by  Chal- 
mers, was  inferior  to  none  of  them  in  public  usefulness, 
or  in  the  beauty  of  the  means  by  which  he  achieved  it,  or 
in  its  probable  duration.  The  elevation  of  the  public 
mind  was  his  peculiar  glory.  In  one  respect  alone  he  was 
unfortunate.  The  assaults  which  he  led  against  error 
were  efforts  in  which  the  value  of  his  personal  services 
can  never  be  duly  seen.  His  position  required  him  to 
dissipate,  in  detached  and  nameless  exertions,  as  much 
philosophy  and  beautiful  composition  as  would  have  sus- 
tained avowed  and  important  original  works.  He  has 
raised  a  great  monument,  but  it  is  one  on  which  his  own 
name  is  too  faintly  engraved. 


APPENDIX. 


* 


APPENDIX. 


No.  I. 

AFTER  the  preceding  pages  had  been  printed,  I  received 
the  three  following  letters,  which  I  think  too  interesting 
to  be  omitted : 

The  first,  from  Lord  Jeffrey,  shows  that  Lord  Glenlee's 
reconciliation  to  him  took  place  a  few  years  sooner  than 
(page  99)  I  had  supposed. 

The  second,  from  Lord  Byron,  shows  how  entirely  his 
lordship  had  survived  his  hatred  of  the  Keview  and  its 
editor. 

The  third,  from  Scott  to  Jeffrey,  attests  the  familiar 
affection  which,  in  spite  of  some  sharp  criticism  on  the 
poetry  of  the  writer,  had  ever  subsisted  between  them. 

Lord  Jeffrey  to  Mrs.  Jeffrey. 

Ayr,  8th  April,  1826. 

I  have  a  pressing  invitation  from  Lord  Glenlee,  this 
morning,  to  pass  a  few  days  with  him  at  Barskimming — 
the  first  invitation,  or  act  of  common  civility,  that  I  have 
received  from  him  since  he  chose  to  quarrel  with  me  about 
politics,  the  year  I  came  to  the  bar.  If  I  can  contrive  it, 
I  should  like  to  go,  both  because  it  is  infinitely  delightful 
to  me  to  see  old  friendships  restored,  and  because  I  have  a 
curiosity  to  learn  what  this  new  turn  portends. 

323 


324  APPENDIX. 

Lord  Byron  to  Jeffrey. 

Feb.  28,  1815. 

My  dear  Sir — Mr.  Hobhouse  will  not  feel  less  gratified 
than  I  have  felt  in  your  approbation  and  acceptance  of  his 
article,  which  will  be  faithfully  conveyed  to  him. 

Whatever  pride  I  may  have  felt  in  your  praise  of  works 
which  I  will  not  affect  to  undervalue,  since  they  have  been 
sanctioned  by  your  judgment,  is,  nevertheless,  far  inferior 
to  the  pleasure  I  should  derive  from  the  power  of  exciting, 
and  the  opportunity  of  cultivating,  your  personal  friend- 
ship. My  former  letter,  in  1812,  was  written  under  cir- 
cumstances of  embarrassment ;  for,  although  you  had  not 
allowed  my  rashness  to  operate  upon  your  public  sentence, 
I  was  by  no  means  sure  that  your  private  feelings  were 
equally  unbiassed.  Indeed,  I  felt  that  I  did  not  deserve 
that  they  should  be  so,  and  was,  besides,  not  a  little  appre- 
hensive of  the  misconstruction  which  might  be  put  upon 
my  motives  by  others,  though  your  own  spirit  and  gene- 
rosity would  acquit  me  of  such  to  yourself.  I  shall  be  now 
most  happy  to  obtain  and  preserve  whatever  portion  of 
your  regard  you  may  allot  to  me.  The  whole  of  your 
conduct  to  me  has  already  secured  mine,  with  many  obliga- 
tions which  would  be  oppressive,  were  it  not  for  my  esteem 
of  him  who  has  conferred  them.  I  hope  we  shall  meet 
before  a  very  long  time  has  elapsed ;  and  then,  and  now, 
I  would  willingly  endeavour  to  sustain  your  good  opinion. 

I  think  Waverley  can  be  none  but  Scott's.  There  are 
BO  many  of  his  familiar  phrases — "  Balmawhapple  was 
with  difficulty^  to  horse;"  " any  gentleman  curious  in 
Christian  burial;"  "poor  Rose  here  lost  heart;"  and  a 
hundred  other  expressions  are  so  like  some  of  his  in  let- 
ters, that,  though  slight,  I  think  them  sure  indications 
of  his  touches.  Be  it  whose  it  may,  it  is  the  best  novel, 
to  my  mind,  of  many  years,  and,  I  cannot  help  thinking, 


FROM    SIR   WALTER    SCOTT.  .325 

outlive  Mrs.  Radcliffe  and  all  her  ghostly  graduates. 
We  have  not  got  "Guy"  yet.  I  should  be  very  happy  to 
try  my  hand  upon  some  of  your  humbler  patients ;  but  I 
must  take  some  time  and  pains,  and  cannot  hope,  like  Gil 
Bias,  to  acquire  the  whole  art  at  once.  Nothing  has  ever 
surprised  me  more  than  the  uniform  tone  of  good  writing 
and  original  thinking  which  has  been  kept  up  amidst  such 
variety,  and  even  in  the  drier  articles,  of  the  E.  R., 
and  I  would  not  adventure  myself  hastily  into  so  much 
good  company.  Our  friend  Moore  does  as  well  as  if  he 
had  done  nothing  else  all  his  life ;  but  the  fact  is,  he 
has  powers  and  versatility  of  talent  for  what  he  will.  I 
have  brought  myself  to  the  end  of  my  sheet.  I  know  you 
are  very  busy,  professionally  and  literan'Zly,  (if  there  be 
such  a  word,)  and  will  only  beg  you  not  to  throw  away 
your  time  in  answering  me  till  fully  and  leisurely  disposed 
so  far  to  oblige. — Ever  yours  most  truly.  BYRON. 

P.  S. — "  Poetry !" — 0  Lord ! — I  have  been  married  these 
two  months. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  to  Jeffrey. 

Abbotsford,  5th  August,  1817. 

My  dear  Jeffrey — I  flatter  myself  it  will  not  require 
many  protestations  to  assure  you  with  what  pleasure  I 
would  undertake  any  book  that  can  give  you  pleasure. 
But,  in  the  present  case.  I  am  hampered  by  two  circum- 
stances ;  one,  that  I  promised  Gifford  a  review  of  this  very 
Kirkton  for  the  Quarterly ;  the  other,  that  I  shall  certainly 
be  unable  to  keep  my  word  with  him.  I  am  obliged  to 
take  exercise  three  or  four  hours  in  the  forenoon  and  two 
after  dinner,  to  keep  off  the  infernal  spasms  which,  since 
last  winter,  have  attacked  me  with  such  violence  as  if  all 
the  imps  that  used  to  plague  poor  Caliban  were  washing, 
wringing,  and  ironing  the  unshapely  but  useful  bag  which 
Sir  John  Sinclair  treats  with  such  distinction — my  sto- 

28 


326  APPENDIX. 

raach,  in  short.  Now,  as  I  have  much  to  do  of  my  own,  I 
fear  I  can  hardly  be  of  use  to  you  in  the  present  case, 
which  I  am  very  sorry  for,  as  I  like  the  subject,  and  would 
be  pleased  to  give  my  own  opinion  respecting  the  Jaco- 
bitism  of  the  editor,  which,  like  my  own,  has  a  good  spice 
of  affectation  in  it,  mingled  with  some  not  unnatural  feel- 
ings of  respect  for  a  cause  which,  though  indefensible  in 
common  sense  and  ordinary  policy,  had  a  great  deal  of 
high-spirited  Quixotry  about  it.  Can  you  not  borrow  from 
your  briefs  and  criticism  a  couple  of  days  to  look  about 
you  here?  I  dare  not  ask  Mrs.  Jeffrey  till  next  year, 
when  my  hand  will  be  out  of  the  mortar-tub ;  and,  at  pre- 
sent, my  only  spare  bed  was,  till  of  late,  but  accessible  by 
the  feudal  accommodation  of  a  drawbridge  made  of  two 
deals,  and  still  requires  the  clue  of  Ariadne.  Still,  how- 
ever, there  it  is,  and  there  is  an  obliging  stage-coach,  called 
the  Blucher,  which  sets  down  my  guests  within  a  mile  of 
my  mansion  (at  Melrose  bridge-end)  three  times  a  week, 
and  restores  them  to  their  families,  in  like  manner,  after 
five  hours'  travelling.  I  am  like  one  of  Miss  Edgeworth's 
heroines,  master  of  all  things  in  miniature — a  little  hill 
and  a  little  glen,  and  a  little  horse-pond  of  a  loch,  and  a 
little  river,  I  was  going  to  call  it — the  Tweed ;  but  I  re- 
member the  minister  was  mobbed  by  his  parishioners  for 
terming  it,  in  his  statistical  report,  an  inconsiderable 
stream.  So  pray  do  .come  and  see  me  ;  and  if  I  can  stead 
you,  or  pleasure  you,  in  the  course  of  the  winter,  you  shall 
command  me.  As  I  bethink  me,  I  can  contrive  a  bachelor 
bed  for  Thomson  or  Jo.  Murray,  if  either  of  them  will 
come  with  you ;  and  if  you  ride,  I  have  plenty  of  hay  and 
corn,  and  a  bed  for  your  servant. — Ever  yours  affection- 
ately, WALTER  SCOTT. 

Our  posts  are  not  very  regular,  so  I  was  late  in  receiving 
yours. 


LIST   OF    CONTRIBUTIONS.  327 


No.  II. 

LIST  OF  LORD  JEFFREY'S  ARTICLES  IN  THE  EDINBURGH 
REVIEW. 

1.  Mournier  sur  la  Revolution  de  France. — No.  1,  art.  1. 

2.  Southey's  Thalaba. — No.  1,  art.  8. 

3.  Herrenschwand,  Adresse  aux  vrais  hommes  de  bien,  &c. 

&c.— No.  1,  art.  13. 

4.  Bonnet  sur  1'Art  de  rendre  Revolutions  Utiles. — No. 

1,  art.  19. 

5.  Mackenzie's   Voyages    in   North   America. — No.   1, 

art.  22. 

6.  Playfair's  Illustrations  of  the  Huttonian  Theory. — 

No.  1,  art.  26. 

7.  Paley's  Natural  Theology. — No.  2,  art.  3. 

8.  Denon's  Travels  in  Egypt. — No.  2,  art.  8. 

9.  Mrs.  Hunter's  Poems. — No.  2,  art.  14. 

10.  Gentz,  Etat  de  1'Europe. — No.  3,  art.  1. 

11.  Hayley's  Life  of  Cowper,  vols.  I.  and  II. — No.  3, 

art.  5. 

12.  Thelwall's  Poems.— No.  3,  art.  21. 

13.  Miss  Baillie's  Plays  on  the  Passions. — No.  4,  art.  1 

14.  Huttonian  and  Neptunian  Geology. — No.  4,  art.  5. 

15.  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's  Works. — No.  4,  art.  21. 

16.  De  Lille,  Malheur  et  Pitie,  Poeme. — No.  5,  art.  2. 

17.  Cambridge's  Works. — No.  5,  art.  4. 

18.  Millar's  View  of  the  English  Government. — No.  5, 

art.  13. 

19.  Stewart's  Life  of  Dr.  Reid.— No.  6,  art.  1. 

20.  Pictet,  Voyage  en  Angleterre. — No.  6,  art.  2. 

21.  Dr.  Cririe's  Scottish  Scenery ;  a  Poem. — No.  6,  art.  6. 

22.  Bentham,   Principes  de   Legislation  par  Dumont. — 

No.  7,  art.  1. 


328  APPENDIX. 

23.  Holcroft's  Travels  from  Hamburgh  to  Paris. — No.  7, 

art.  6. 

24.  Hayley's  Life  of  Cowper,  vol.  III.— No.  8,  art.  2. 

25.  Sotheby's  Translation  of  the  Georgics. — No.  8,  art.  4. 

26.  Considerations  on  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade. — 

No.  8,  art.  17. 

27.  Richardson's  Life  and  Correspondence. — No.  9,  art.  2. 

28.  Barrow's  Travels  in  China. — No.  10,  art.  1. 

29.  Lord  Teignmouth's  Life  of  Sir  W.  Jones. — No.  10, 

art.  6. 

30.  Miss  Baillie's  Miscellaneous  Plays. — No.  10,  art.  12. 

31.  The  Sabbath ;  a  Poem.— No.  10,  art.  14. 

32.  Correspondence  and  Life  of  John  Wilkes. — No.  10, 

art.  18. 

33.  Scott's  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. — No.  11,  art.  1. 

34.  Memoires  de  Bailly. — No.  11,  art.  12. 

35.  Southey's  Madoc;  a  Poem. — No.  13,  art.  1. 

36.  De  Lille,  Traduction  de  1'Eneide.— No.  13,  art.  8. 

37.  Drummond's  Academical  Questions. — No.  13,  art.  12. 

38.  Memoires  de  Marmontel. — No.  14,  art.  5. 

39.  Forsy  th's  Principles  of  Moral  Science. — No.  14,  art.  7 

40.  The  Frauds  of  the  Neutral  Flags.— No.  15,  art.  1. 

41.  Cumberland's  Memoirs. — No.  15,  art.  8. 

42.  Lessing's  Nathan  the  Wise. — No.  15,  art.  11. 

43.  Smyth's  English  Lyrics. — No.  15,  art.  12. 

44.  Raymond's  Life  of  Dermody. — No.  15,  art.  13. 

45.  Miss  Edgeworth's  Leonora. — No.  15,  art.  16. 

46.  Mawman's  Tour  through  Scotland. — No.  16,  art.  4. 

47.  Franklin's  Works.— No.  16,  art.  7. 

48.  Bell  on  the  Anatomy  of  Painting. — No.  16,  art.  10. 

49.  Pinkerton's  Recollections  of  Paris. — No.  16,  art.  13. 

50.  Moore's  Poems. — No.  16,  art.  18. 

51.  Barrow's  Voyage  to  Cochin  China. — No.  17,  art.  1. 

52.  Willan  and  others  on  Vaccination. — No.  17,  art.  3. 

53.  Craig's  Life  of  Millar. — No.  17,  art.  5. 

54.  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Priestley.— No.  17,  art.  9. 


LIST   OF   CONTRIBUTIONS.  329 

55.  Lord  Holland's  Account  of  Lope  de  Vega. — No.  17, 

art.  16. 

56.  Montgomery's  Poems. — No.  18,  art.  6. 

57.  Proposed  Reform  of  the  Court  of  Session. — No.  18, 

art.  14. 

58.  The  Danger  of  the  Country. — No.  19,  art.  1. 

59.  Clarkson  on  Quakerism. — No.  19,  art.  6. 

60.  Sir  William  Forbes's  Life  of  Dr.  Beattie.— No.  19, 

art.  12. 

61.  Sotheby's  Saul ;  a  Poem. — No.  19,  art.  14. 

62.  Good's  Translation  of  Lucretius. — No.  19,  art.  15. 

63.  Cobbett's  Political  Register. — No.  20,  art.  9. 

64.  Hope  on  Household  Furniture. — No.  20,  art.  14. 

65.  Catholic  Question. — No.  21,  art.  8. 

66.  Sir  John  Sinclair,  on  Health  and  Longevity. — No.  21, 

art.  13. 

67.  Wordsworth's  Poems.— No.  21,  art.  14. 

68.  Espriella's  Letters  from  England. — No.  12,  art.  7. 

69.  Scott's  Marmion. — No.  23,  art.  1. 

70.  Crabbe's  Poems.— No.  23,  art.  8. 

71.  Fox's  History  of  James  II.— No.  24,  art.  1. 

72.  Mrs.  Hamilton's  Cottagers  of  Glenburnie. — No.  24, 

art  8. 

73.  Douce's  Illustrations  of  Shakspeare. — No.  24,  art.  12. 

74.  The  Life  of  Colonel  Hutchinson. — No.  25,  art.  1. 

75.  Fowling ;  a  Poem. — No.  25,  art.  4. 

76.  Curran's  Speeches. — No.  25,  art.  9. 

77.  Cevallos  on  the  French  Usurpation  in  Spain. — No.  25, 

art.  14. 

78.  Cromek's  Reliques  of  Burns. — No.  26,  art.  1. 

79.  Warburton's  Letters. — No.  26,  art.  5. 

80.  Campbell's  Gertrude  of  Wyoming — No.  27,  art.  1. 

81.  Morehead's  Discourses. — No.  27,  art.  7. 

82.  Lettres  du  Prince  de  Ligne.— No.  27,  art.  9. 

83.  Parliamentary  Reform. — No.  28,  art.  1. 

84.  Miss  Edgeworth's  Fashionable  Tales. — No.  28,  art.  7. 

28* 


330  APPENDIX. 

85.  Barlow's  Colutnbiad  ;  a  Poem. — No.  29,  art.  2. 

86.  Mrs.  Montague's  Letters. — No.  29,  art.  5. 

87.  Hamilton's  Parliamentary  Logic. — No.  29,  art.  11. 

88.  Memoirs  of  Alfieri. — No.  30,  art.  2. 

89.  Pamphlets  on  Vaccination. — No.  30,  art.  5. 

90.  Correspondence  de  Madame  Deffand  et  de  Mademoi- 

selle de  Lespinass. — No.  30,  art.  13. 

91.  The  State  of  Parties.— No.  30,  art.  15. 

92.  Letter  on  French  Government. — No.  31,  art.  1. 

93.  Crabbe's  Borough.— No.  31^  art.  2. 

94.  Grahame's  British  Georgics. — No.  31,  art.  9. 

95.  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake. — No.  32,  art.  1. 

96.  Staunton's  Penal  Code  of  China.— No.  32,  art.  12. 

97.  Catholic  Question. — No.  33,  art.  1. 

98.  Stewart's  Philosophical  Essays. — No.  33,  art.  9. 

99.  Parliamentary  Reform. — No.  34,  art.  1. 

100.  Letters  of  Madame  De  Deffand.— No.  34,  art.  2. 

101.  Southey's  Curse  of  Kehama. — No.  34,  art.  11. 

102.  Alison  on  Taste. — No.  35,  art.  1. 

103.  Ford's  Dramatic  Works.— No.  36,  art.  1. 

104.  Scott's  Vision  of  Don  Roderick. — No.  36,  art.  6. 

105.  Mrs.  Grant  on  Highlanders. — No.  36,  art.  12. 

106.  Hardy's  Life  of  Lord  Charlemont. — No.  37,  art.  4. 

107.  Miss  Baillie's  Plays  on  the  Passions,  vol.  III. — No. 

38,  art.  1. 

108.  Wilson's  Isle  of  Palms.— No.  38,  art.  6. 

109.  Byron's  Childe  Harold.— No.  38,  art.  10. 

110.  M'Crie's  Life  of  John  Knox.— No.  39,  art.  1. 

111.  Miss  Edgeworth's  Tales  of  Fashionable  Life. — No. 

39,  art.  7. 

112.  Chenevix's  Plays.— No.  39,  art.  11. 

113.  Memoires  de  la  Princesse  de  Bareith. — No.  40,  art.  1. 

114.  Crabbe's  Tales.— No.  40,  art.  2. 

115.  Leckie  on  the  British  Government. — No.  40,  art.  4. 

116.  Rejected  Addresses. — No.  40,  art.  10. 

117.  Madme.  de  Stael  surla  Literature. — No.  41,  art.  1. 


LIST   OF   CONTRIBUTIONS.  331 

118.  Correspondence  du  Baron  de  Grimm. — No.  42,  art.  1. 

119.  Byron's  Giaour. — No.  42,  art.  2. 

120.  Clarkson's  Life  of  William  Penn.— No.  42,  art.  10. 

121.  State  and  Prospects  of  Europe. — No.  45,  art.  1. 

122.  Byron's  Corsair   and  Bride   of  Abydos. — No.  45, 

art.  9. 

123.  Correspondence  du  Baron  de  Grimm. — No.  46,  art.  2. 

124.  Alison's  Sermons. — No.  46,  art.  9. 

125.  Wordsworth's  Excursion,  a  Poem. — No.  47,  art.  1. 

126.  Hogg's  Queen's  \^ake.— No.  47,  art.  8. 

127.  Tennant's  Anster  Fair.— No.  47,  art.  9. 

128.  Waverley ;  a  Novel.— No.  47,  art.  11. 

129.  Scott's  Lord  of  the  Isles.— No.  48,  art.  1. 

130.  Paradise  of  Coquettes. — No.  48,  art.  8. 

131.  Southey's  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Goths. — No.  49, 

art.  1. 

132.  Wordsworth's   White   Doe   of    Rylstone.— No.    50, 

art.  4. 

133.  Memoires  de  Madame  de  Larochejaquelin. — No.  51, 

art.  1. 

134.  Southey's  Lay  of  the  Laureate. — No.  52,  art.  8. 

135.  Wilson's  City  of  the  Plague.— No.  52,  art.  10. 

136.  Hunt's  Story  of  Rimini. — No.  52,  art.  11. 

137.  Scott's  Edition  of  Swift. — No.  53,  art.  1. 

138.  Byron's  Poetry. — No.  54,  art.  1. 

139.  Watt  Tyler  and  Mr.  Southey.— No.  55,  art.  7. 

140.  Tales  of  My  Landlord.— No.  55,  art.  9. 

141.  Franklin's  Correspondence. — No.  56,  art.  1. 

142.  Miss  Edgeworth's  Tales.— No.  56,  art.  6. 

143.  Byron's  Manfred.— No.  56,  art.  7. 

144.  Hazlitt  on  Shakspeare. — No.  56,  art.  9. 

145.  Coleridge's  Literary  Life. — No.  56,  art.  10. 

146.  Moore's  Lalla  Rookh. — No.  57,  art.  1. 

147.  Byron's  Beppo. — No.  58,  art.  2. 

148.  Rob  Roy.— No.  58,  art.  7. 

149.  Hall's  Voyage  to  Loo-Choo.— No.  58,  art.  10. 


332  APPENDIX. 

150.  Madame  de  Stael  sur  la  Revolution  Franchise. — No. 

60,  art.  1. 

151.  Prison  Discipline. — No.  60,  art.  9. 

152.  Rogers's  Human  Life ;  a  Poem. — No.  62,  art.  4. 

153.  Campbell's  British  Poetry.— No.  62,  art.  11. 

154.  Dr.  King's  Memoirs. — No.  63,  art.  4. 

155.  Crabbe's  Tales  of  the  Hall.— No.  63,  art.  7. 

156.  State  of  the  Country.— No.  64,  art.  2. 

157.  Ivanhoe. — No.  65,  art.  1. 

158.  Cornwall's  Poems. — No.  65,  art.  8. 

159.  Life  of  Curran.— No.  66,  ar£  1. 

160.  Dispositions   of  England   and  America.  —  No.    66, 

art.  6. 

161.  Edgeworth's  Memoirs. — No.  67,  art.  6. 

162.  The  Sketch-Book.— No.  67,  art.  8. 

163.  Keats's  Poetry.— No.  67,  art.  10. 

164.  Quaker  Poetry.— No.  68,  art.  4. 

165.  Cornwall's  Marcian  Colonna. — No.  68,  art.  11. 

166.  Byron's  Marino  'Faliero. — No.  70,  art.  1. 

167.  Southey's  Vision  of  Judgment ;  Laureate  Ilaxame- 

ters. — No.  70,  art.  9. 

168.  Bowdler's  Family  Shakspeare. — No.  71,  art.  3. 

169.  Madame  de  Stael. — No.  71,  art.  4. 

170.  Byron's  Tragedies. — No.  72,  art.  5. 

171.  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel.— No.  73,  art.  8. 

172.  Simond's  Switzerland.— No.  74,  art.  1. 

173.  Bracebridge  Hall.— No.  74,  art.  3. 

174.  French  Poetry.— No.  74,  art.  6.  . 

175.  Wordsworth's  Tour  on  the  Continent. — No.  74,  art.  8. 

176.  Moore  and  Byron. — No.  75,  art.  2. 

177.  Cobbett's  Cottage  Economy. — No.  75,  art.  5. 

178.  Secondary  Scottish  Novels. — No.  77,  art.  9. 

179.  Dr.  Meyrick  on  Ancient  Armour. — No.  78,  art.  4. 

180.  Brodie's  Constitutional  History. — No.  79,  art.  5. 

181.  Malcolm's  Central  India. — No.  80,  art.  1. 

182.  Dr.  Lyall  on  Russia.— No.  80,  art.  9. 


LIST   OF   CONTRIBUTIONS.  383 

183.  Sketches  of  India,  and  Scenes  in  Egypt  and  Italy. — 

No.  81,  art.  2. 

184.  Campbell's  Theodoric,  and  other  Poems. — No.  82, 

art.  1. 

185.  Goethe's  Wilhelm  Meister.— No.  84,  art.  7. 

186.  Pepy's  Memoirs.— No.  85,  art.  2. 

187.  Combe's  System  of  Phrenology. — No.  88,  art.  1. 

188.  Moore's  Life  of  Sheridan.— No.  89,  art.  1. 

189.  Memoirs  of  the  Emperor  Baber. — No.  91,  art.  2. 

190.  O'Driscol's  History  of  Ireland. — No.  92,  art.  7. 

191.  Lord  Collingwood's  Correspondence. — No.  94,  art.  5. 

192.  Irving's  Life  and  Voyages  of  Columbus. — No.  95, 

art.  1. 

193.  Atherstone's  Fall  of  Nineveh ;    a  Poem. — No.  95, 

art.  3. 

194.  Bishop  Heber's  Journal. — No.  96,  art.  2. 

195.  Felicia  Hemans. — No.  99,  art.  2. 

196.  Memoirs  of  Lady  Fanshawe. — No.  99,  art.  4. 

197.  Naval  Tactics.     Breaking  of  the  Enemy's  Line. — 

No.  101,  art.  1. 

198.  Memoirs  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh. — No.  125,  art.  11. 

199.  Wilberforce's  Correspondence. — No.  145,  art.  2. 

200.  Watt  or  Cavendish  ?— No.  175,  art.  3. 


334  APPENDIX. 


No.  III. 
LIST  OF  SUBSCRIBERS  TO  LORD  JEFFREY'S  MONUMENT 

And  the  places  where  Subscriptions  were  made. 

Adam,  Sir  Charles,  K.C.B.,  Edinburgh. 

Adam,  Dr.  Walter,  Edinburgh. 

Advertiser,  Proprietors  of  the  North  British,  Edinburgh. 

Ainslie,  Robert,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Alison,  Archibald,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Ambrose,  William,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Anderson,  Adam,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Anderson,  Sir  James,  Lord  Provost  of  Glasgow. 

Andrews,  Biggs,  Esq.,  Q.C.,  London. 

Anstruther,  Mrs.,  London. 

Arnott,  James,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Arnott,  J.  Walker,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Austin,  Mrs.,  London. 

Bannatyne,  Andrew,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Barclay,  Rev.  Thomas,  Minister  of  Currie,  Edinburgh. 
Barr,  William,  Esq.,  Sheriff-Clerk  of  Renfrewshire,  Edin- 
burgh. 

Barren,  George,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Bell,  Alexander  M.,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Bell,  J.  M.,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Bell,  Lady,  London. 

Bell,  Robert,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Beveridge,  Thomas,  Esq.,  D.C.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Black,  Adam,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Black,  Charles,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Booth,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Boyd,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 


LIST    OF   SUBSCRIBERS.  335 

Boyle,  Archibald  T.,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Boyle,  Right  Hon.  David,  Lord  Justice-General,  Edinburgh. 

Breadalbane,  Marquis  of,  Edinburgh. 

Bright,  Richard,  Esq.,  M.D.,  London. 

Brock,  Henry,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Brodie,  James  C.,  Esq.  of  Lethen,  Edinburgh. 

Brodie,  John  Clerk,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Brougham  and  Vaux,  Right  Hon.  Lord,  London. 

Brown,  Dr.,  Broadfield  House,  Lincolnshire,  Edinburgh. 

Brown,  John,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Brown,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Langfine,  Ayrshire,  Edinburgh. 

Brown,  Thomas,  Esq.,  jun.  of  do.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Bryson,  Robert,  and  Sons,  Clockmakers,  Edinburgh. 

Buchanan,  Walter,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Burnet,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Burns,  William,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Burton,  John  H.,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Campbell,  A.  D.,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Campbell,  Right  Hon.  Lord,  London. 
Campbell,  James,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Campbell,  James,  Esq.  of  Craigie,  Edinburgh. 
Campbell,  N.  Colquhoun,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Campbell,  William,  Esq.  of  Tillichewan,,  Glasgow. 
Carmichael,  Sir  Alex.  Gibson,  Bart.,  Edinburgh. 
Carmichael,  William  Gibson,  Esq..  Cambridge,  Edinburgh. 
Cathcart,  Elias,  Esq.  of  Auchandrane,  Ayrshire. 
Caw,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Chambers,  Robert,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Chaplin,  Thomas  Robertson,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Christison,  Professor,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 
Cleghorn,  Thomas,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Cockburn,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 
Caldwell,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Constable,  Thomas,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Cormack,  David,  Esq.,  S.S.C.,  Edinburgh. 


* 

336  APPENDIX. 

Couper,  John,  Esq.,  M;D.,  Glasgow. 

Couper,  William,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Courant,  Proprietors  of  the  Edinburgh  Evening. 

Coventry,  Andrew,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Cowan,  Alexander,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Cowan,  Charles,  Esq.,  M.P.,  Edinburgh. 

Cowan,  David,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Cowan,  John,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Craig,  Sir  James  Gibson,  Bart.,  Edinburgh. 

Craig,  James  T.  Gibson,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Craig,  Mrs.  James  Gibson,  Edinburgh. 

Craig,  William  Gibson,  Esq.,  M.P.,  Edinburgh. 

Craufurd,  James,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Crawfurd,  George,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Crichton,  Hew,  Esq.,  S.S.C.,  Edinburgh. 

Crichton,  Hew  Hamilton,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Crichton,  J.  A.,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Crowe,  Mrs.  J.  A.,  Edinburgh. 

Cuninghame,  Lord,  Edinburgh.  V. ,  \ 

Currie,  Alexander,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Dalmeny,  Right  Hon.  Lord,  Edinburgh. 
Dalziel,  George,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Davidson,  Archibald,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Dennistoun,  Alexander,  Esq.  of  Golf  hill,  Glasgow. 
Dickens,  Charles,  Esq.,  London. 
Dickson,  Peter,  Esq.,  London. 
Dreghorn,  D.,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Drummond,  Hon.-H.,  Edinburgh. 
Duncan,  Flockhart,  and  Co.,  Edinburgh. 
Duncan,  James,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Dundas,  George,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Dundas,  John,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Dunfermline,  Right  Hon.  Lord,  Edinburgh. 
Dunlop,  Alexander,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Dunlop,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 


LIST   OF   SUBSCRIBERS.  337 

Dylke,  G.  W.,  Esq.,  London. 

Ellice,  Right  Hon.  Edward,  Edinburgh. 
Erskine,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Linlathen,  Edinburgh. 
Ewing,  James,  Esq.  of  Strathleven,  Glasgow. 
Ewing,  William,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Fairie,  James,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Ferguson,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Ferguson,  Mrs.  Hamilton  Nisbet,  Edinburgh. 

Findlay,  Robert,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Finlay,  Alex.  F.,  Esq.  of  Castle  Toward,  Glasgow. 

Finlayson,  James,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Flahault,  Count,  London. 

Fletcher,  Angus,  Esq.  of  Dunans,  Edinburgh. 

Fletcher,  Mrs.  Archd.,  Edinburgh.  ;  ^,- 

Forbes,  Professor  James  D.,  Edinburgh. 

Friend,  A.,  Edinburgh. 

Gardiner,  T.  G.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Gillespie,  Alexander,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Gordon,  Joseph,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Graham,  Adam,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Graham,  Alexander,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Graham,  Robert,  Esq.  of-  Balgowan,  Edinburgh. 

Graham,  Miss  Stirling,  Edinburgh. 

Graham,  William,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Grant,  D.,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Grant,  Joseph,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Guthrie,  Rev.  Thomas,  D.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Hallam,  Henry,  Esq.,  London. 
Hamilton  and  Brandon,  Duke  of,  Glasgow. 
Hamilton,  Sir  William,  Bart.,  Edinburgh. 
Handyside,  Robert,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Hanna,  Rev.  Thomas,  D.D.,  Edinburgh. 

W  29 


APPENDIX. 

Hay,  James,  Esq.,  Leith,  Edinburgh. 

Hay,  Samuel,  JSsq.,  Edinburgh. 

Heavyside,  Professor,  Edinburgh. 

Herschell,  Sir  John  F.  W.,  London. 

Hibbert,  Nathaniel,  Esq.,  London. 

Hill,  Rev.  Alexander,  D.D.,  Glasgow. 

Hill,  Lawrence,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Hill,  Thomas,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Holland,  H.,  Esq.,  M.D.,  London. 

Hope,  Rt.  Hon.  John,  Lord  Justice-Clerk,  Edinburgh. 

Horner,  Leonard,  Esq.,  London. 

Hotson,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Howard,  Hon.  Charles  W.  G.,  London. 

Hunter,  John,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Inglis,  .Charles  Craigie  Halkett,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Inglis,  John,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Innes,  Cosmo,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Innes,  William  Mitchell,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Ivory,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 
Ivory,  William,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Jamieson,  Rev.  R.,  Glasgow. 
Jardine,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Jeffrey,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Jones,  Rev.  R.,  London. 

Kennedy,  Right  Hon.  T.  F.,  London. 
Kidston,  J.  B.,  Esq..  Glasgow. 
Kieser,  J.  C.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Kirkpatrick,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Kirkwood,  Anderson,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Knox,  Robert,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Laing,  Mrs,,  Edinburgh. 
Lamoud,  Robert,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 


LIST    OF   SUBSCRIBERS.  339 

Lansdowne,  Marquis  of,  London. 

Lang,  J.  L.,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Lawrie,  Robert,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Leslie,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Lindsay,  Donald,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Lindsay,  John  M.,  Esq.,  P.C.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Loch,  James,  Esq.,  M.P.,  London. 

Logan,  Alex.  S.,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Logic,  William,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Longman  and  Co.,  Messrs.,  London. 

Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  London. 

Macara,  Laurence,  M.,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Macaulay,  Right  Hon.  T.  B.,  London. 
Macbean,  ^Bneas,  Esq.,  W.  S.,  Edinburgh. 
Maccallum,  G.  Kellie,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
M'Clelland,  James,  Esq.  Glasgow. 
Macculloch,  J.  R.,  Esq.,  London. 
M'Ewan,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Macfarlan,  David,  Esq.,  H.E.I.C.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Macfarlan,  Very  Rev.  Principal,  Glasgow. 
Macfarlane,  Robert,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Macfie,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
M'Hardie,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Mackay,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Mackenzie,  G.  S.,  Esq.,  72d  Regiment,  London. 
Mackenzie,  Right  Hon.  Holt,  Edinburgh. 
Mackenzie,  James,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Mackenzie,  Keith  W.  Stewart,  Esq.,  London. 
Mackenzie,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 
Mackenzie,  Peter,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Mackenzie,  Hon.  Mrs.  Stewart,  London. 
Mackenzie,  Miss  Stewart,  London. 
Mackenzie,  Thomas,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Maclagan,  David,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 
Maclagan,  Douglas,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 


340  APPENDIX. 

Maclaren,  Charles,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

MacNeill,  Duncan,  Esq.,  Dean  of  Faculty,  Edinburgh. 

MacNeill,  Sir  John,  G.C.B.,  Edinburgh. 

Mail,  Proprietor  of  the  North  British,  Edinburgh. 

Maitland,  Edward  F.,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Maitland,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Maitland,  T.,  Esq.,  Solicitor-General,  Edinburgh. 

Marcet,  Mrs.  Jane,  London. 

Marshall,  John,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Martin,  Charles,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Maxwell,  Sir  John,  Bart.,  Glasgow. 

Medwyn,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 

Melville,  Rev.  H.,  London. 

Miller,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Miller,  Professor,  Edinburgh. 

Milman,  Rev.  Hen.  H.,  D.D.,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  London. 

Minto,  Earl  of,  Edinburgh. 

Mitchell,  Andrew,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Mitchell,  James,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Moncrieff,  Hugh,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Moncrieff,  James,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Moncrieff,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 

Moncrieff,  William,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Monteagle,  Right  Hon.  Lord,  London. 

Monteith,  Alexander  Earl,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 

Monteith,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Morrison,  Alexander,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Murray,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Murray,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 

Murray,  William,  Esq.,  of  Henderland,  Edinburgh. 

Napier,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Neaves,  Charles,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Newbigging,  Sir  William,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 
Norwood,  Edward,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

.*•  •  '-"4  ,  r»«ffJ9«K 


LIST   OF   SUBSCRIBERS.  341 

O'Brien,  W.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Oliver  and  Boyd,  Messrs.,  Publishers,  Edinburgh. 

Orr,  Robert,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Parker,  W.  A.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Patrick,  William,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Pell,  Duncan  C.,  Esq.,  New  York. 

Pell,  Mrs.  D.  C.,  New  York. 

Petre,  Mrs.  J.  B.,  London. 

Pillans,  Professor,  Edinburgh. 

Playfair,  W.  H.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Primrose,  Honourable  Bouverie  F.,  Edinburgh. 

Ramage,  C.  T.,  Esq.,  Wallace  Hall,  Dumfriesshire. 

Reddie,  Charles,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Reddie,  James,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Reeve,  Henry,  Esq.,  London. 

Richardson  Brothers,  Edinburgh. 

Richardson,  John,  Esq.,  London. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  Esq.,  London. 

Romily,  Edward,  Esq.,  London. 

Rosebery,  Earl  of,  Edinburgh. 

Russell,  Right  Hon.  Lord  John,  London. 

Rutherfurd,  Right  Hon.  Andrew,  Lord  Advocate,  Edin 

burgh. 

Rutherfurd,  Captain  James  H.,  Edinburgh. 
Ryan,  Right  Hon.  Sir  Edward,  London. 

Salmond,  George,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Scotsman,  Proprietors  of  the,  Edinburgh. 
Shand,  C.  F.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Simpson,  James,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 
Sinclair,  Sir  George,  of  Ulbster,  Bart.,  Edinburgh. 
Smith,  A.,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Smith,  David,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Smith,  David,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

29* 


342  APPENDIX. 

Smith,  Colonel  Henry,  of  Baltiboys,  Edinburgh. 
Smith,  Mrs.,  of  Baltiboys,  Edinburgh. 
Smith,  Peter,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Smith,  Mrs.  Sidney,  London. 
Somerville,  James,  Esq.,  Selkirk,  Edinburgh. 
Spalding,  Professor,  St.  Andrews,  Edinburgh. 
Stair,  Earl  of,  Edinburgh. 

Steevens,  Right  Hon.  Sir  James,  Bart.,  Cambridge,  Edin- 
burgh. 

Sterling,  George,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 
Stewart,  Honourable  C.  F.,  London. 
Stirling,  James,  Esq.,  C.E.,  Edinburgh. 
Strathearn,  Alexander,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Tait,  C.  B.,  Esq,  Edinburgh. 

Tait  and  Nisbet,  Messrs.,  Edinburgh. 

Tennan.t,  Andrew,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Tennant,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Thomson,  Allen,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Thomson,  Archibald,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Thomson,  G.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Thomson,  James  Gibson,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Thomson,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Thomson,  Thomas,  Esq.,  Advocate,  P.C.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Thomson,  William,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Thornley,  Thomas,  Esq.,  M.P.,  Edinburgh. 

Traill,  Thomas  Stewart,  M.D.,  Professor,  Edinburgh. 

Turnbull,  David,  Esq.,  W.  S.,  Edinburgh. 

Turnbull,  W.,  Esq.,  Royal  Bank,  Edinburgh. 

Turnbull,  W.  B.  D.  D.,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

Waddell,  William,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Webster,  James,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Wedderburne,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 
Welsh,  David,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 
Whitehead,  John,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 


LIST   OF   SUBSCRIBERS.  343 


Wilson,  George,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Wilson,  John,  Esq.,  Glasgow. 

Wilson,  Robert  Sym,  Royal  Bank,  Edinburgh. 

Wood,  Lord,  Edinburgh. 

Wotherspoon,  William,  Esq.,  W.S.,  Edinburgh. 

Wrightson,  W.  B.,  Esq.,  M.P.,  Edinburgh. 

Young,  George,  Esq.,  Advocate,  Edinburgh. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


BTEBEOTTPED  BT  L.  JOHNSON  AND  CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 


LIFE 


o» 


LORD    JEFFREY, 


Selection  from  bis  (Corrcsponbcnrc. 


TT  BY 

LORD    COCKBURN, 

OKK  OF  THE  JUDGES  OF  THE  COURT  OF  SESSION  IN  SCOTLAND 


TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE 
VOL.  II. 


PHILADELPHIA : 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT  &   CO. 

1857. 


INDEX  TO  LETTEES. 

• 


PAOK 

1.  To  his  sister  Mary,  afterward  Mrs.  Napier          1789 9 

2.  To  his  sister  Mary Oct.   25,1791 10 

3.  To  his  sister  Mary Nov.    2,1791 12 

4.  To  his  sister  Mary Dec.  12,1791 13 

5.  To  Miss  Crockett,  a  cousin Mar.     9,  1792 14 

6.  To  Miss  Crockett June  10,  1792 16 

7.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Mar.  30,  1793 17 

8.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead June  25,  1793 18 

9.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Mar.    2,  1794 20 

10.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey June    1,  1794 21 

11.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead Dec.  22,  1795 22 

12.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead May     7,  1796. 24 

13.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey May  20,1796 25 

14.  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq Oct.      7,1796 27 

15.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead Nov.  26,  1796 29 

16.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Nov.  12,  1797 31 

17.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Nov.  21,  1797 33 

18.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead Aug.    6,  1798 34 

19.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Mar.    4,  1799 35 

20.  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq Aug.  26,  1799 37 

21.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead Sept.  20,  1799 40 

22.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead July     6,  1800 42 

23.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Oct.     1,  1800 44 

24.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Nov.  29,1800 45 

25.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Jan.     3,  1801 47 

26.  To  Thomas  Campbell,  Esq Mar.  17,  1801 48 

27.  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq .'...April  19, 1801 ,50 

28.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Aug.    1,  1801 52 

3 


4  INDEX   TO   LETTERS. 

FAOI 

29.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Oct.     2,  1801 63 

30.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead Oct.      7,  1801 54 

31.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead May  24,  1802 55 

32.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Aug.    1,  1802 58 

33.  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead Oct.   25,  1802 59 

34.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq •. April   1,1803 60 

35.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq May  11,1803 61 

36.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey July    2,  1803 64 

37.  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq Aug.    7,  1803 66 

88.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq Aug.    8,1803 68 

89.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Sept.    2,1803 70 

40.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq Sept.    8,1803 71 

41.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Oct.   19,1803 73 

42.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Feb.  19,  1804 75 

43-.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq May     6,  1804 76 

44.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Sept.    3,1804 78 

45.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq.. Sept.    4,1804 80 

46.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Jan.  20,1805 82 

47.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey Feb.     6,  1805 83 

48.  To  Mrs.  Morehead y Aug.  23,  1805 84 

49.  To  Charles  Bell,  Esq. ..." Jan.  21,1806 86 

60.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Mar.    9,1806 88 

61.  To  Mrs.  Morehead Sept.    1,1806 90 

52.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Sept.  18,  1806 92 

53.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq Nov.  25,1806 95 

54.  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey ..Jan.  28,1807 101 

55.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Sept.  10,  1808 103 

56.  To  Mr.  Malthus April  21, 1809 104 

67.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Dec.  22,1809 104 

58.  To  Job*  Allen,  Esq May     4,  1810 105 

59.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq July  20,  1810 106 

60.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Jan.  25,1811 109 

61.  To  Charles  Bell,  Esq April  4,  1811 110 

62.  To  Mrs.  Morehead May  12,1811 Ill 

63.  To  Mrs.  Morehead Sept.    7,1811 114 

64.  To  Francis  Horner,  Esq Jan.     5,  1813 114 

65.  To  Lord  Murray Aug.  20,  1813 115 


INDEX   TO    LETTERS.  5 

PAGE 

66.  To  Kobert  Morehead,  Esq Aug.  28,  1813 117 

67.  To  Mr.  Malthus May  12,1814 119 

68.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Feb.  25,1815 120 

69.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq Mar.  12,  1815 123 

70.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq May     7,  1815 126 

71.  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq June    9,  1815 128 

72.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Feb.  13,  1816 130 

73.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Sept.         1816 131 

74.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Dec.  20,1816 132 

75.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Feb.  17,1817 134 

76.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Mar.  14,1817 137 

77.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Mar.  27,1817 138 

78.  To  John  Kichardson,  Esq July  24,  1817 139 

79.  To  Dr.  Chalmers July  25,1817 141 

80.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq May     9,1818 142 

81.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Aug.    5,  1818 146 

82.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq May     5,  1819 150 

83.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Atig.  24,  1819 152 

84.  To  Dr.  Chalmers. Dec.  21,1819 154 

85.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Feb.  22,1821 155 

86.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq April  15,  1821 156 

87.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Jan.   27,1822 158 

88.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq April  13,  1822 160 

89.  To  Mrs.  Colden May     6,  1822 164 

90.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Sept,  22,  1822 169 

91.  To  his  niece,  Miss  Brown Aug.  13,  1823 170 

92.  To  Miss  Brown Aug.  25,1823 172 

93.  To  John  Allen,  Esq Dec.  18,  1823 174 

94.  To  Miss  Brown Sept.  23,  1824 175 

95.  To  Mr.  Malthus Jan.     6,  1826 176 

96.  To  Mrs.  Colden Mar.  29,1827 177 

97.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.  13,  1827. 179 

98.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.  19,  1827 180 

99.  To  Mrs.  James  Craig Oct.    21,  1828 182 

100.  To  Mrs.  Craig April   8,1829 183 

101.  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq Mar.  28,  1830 183 

102.  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq Nov.         1830 185 


6  INDEX   TO   LETTERS. 

MM 

103.  To  Mr.  Empson Jan.  31,1831 186 

104.  To  Lord  Cockburn April   7,1831 187 

105.  To  Mrs.  Laing July    8,  1831 189 

106.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.  23,  1831 190 

107.  To  Lord  Cockburn Oct.     9,  1831 191 

108.  To  Miss  Cockburn Oct.   17,1831 192 

109.  To  Lord  Cockburn Dec.   18,1831 193 

110.  To  Lord  Cockburn Feb.  12,1832 194 

111.  To  Miss  Cockburn Mar.  21,1832 195 

112.  To  Mrs.  Rutherfurd April   1,1832 198 

113.  To  Lord  Cockburn April25,  1832 200 

114.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.    2,  1832 202 

115.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.    8,  1832 202 

116.  Tb  Mr.  Empson Aug.  26,  1832 203 

117.  To  Lord  Cockburn April  11,  1833 205 

118.  To  Lord  Cockburn July  16,1833 206 

119.  To  Lord  Cockburn July  30,  1833 207 

120.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.  23,  1833 !208 

121.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.  26,  1833 209 

122.  To  Mr.  Empson Aug.    2,  1834 210 

123.  To  Mrs.  Craig Dec.  26,1834 212 

124.  To  Mrs.  D.  Belden April  29,  1835 212 

125.  To  Lord  Cockburn Aug.  28,  1835 214 

126.  To  Dr.  Morehead Sept.  30,  1835 216 

127.  To  Lord  Cockburn Jan.     5,1836 219 

128.  To  William  Spalding,  Esq May  23,1836 219 

129.  To  Andrew  Rutherfurd,  Esq Aug.    1,  1836 221 

130.  To  John  Richardson,  Esq Nov.  28,  1836 223 

131.  To  Mr.  Empson Edinr.  15th      224 

132.  To  Andrew  Rutherfurd,  Esq April  17,  1837 225 

133.  To  John  Cay,  Esq Aug.  14,  1837 226 

134.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes Aug.  29,  1837 227 

135.  To  John  Richardson,  Esq Sept.    7,  1837 230 

136.  To  Mr.  Empson : Nov.  11,1837 231 

137.  To  Mr.  Empson Nov.  26,1837 233 

138.  To  Mr.  Empson... Dec.   19,1837 235 

139.  TotheSolicitor-general(Rutherfurd)Mar.  22,  1838 236 


INDEX   TO    LETTERS.  7 

140.  To  Mrs.  Empson... Sept.  13,1838 237 

141.  To  the  Lord  Advocate  (Rutherfurd)June    3,  1839 238 

142.  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq July     7,  1839 239 

143.  To  Mrs.  Kutherfurd July  14,  1839 239 

144.  To  the  Lord  Advocate  (Rutherfurd) Aug.  13,  1839...... 242 

145.  To  Mrs.  Craig Sept.  20,  1839.. '....243 

146.  To  Mrs.  Empson Jan.  23,1840 244 

147.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes Feb.     6,  1840 246 

148.  To  Mrs.  Empson Feb.  20,  1840..    ..248, 

149.  To  Mr.  Empson May     4,  1840 249* 

150.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes June    2,  1840 250 

151.  To  Mr.  Empson June  27,  1840 251 

152.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes Aug.  13,  1840 252 

153.  To  John  Richardson,  Esq Oct.    15,  1840 255 

154.  To  Mrs.  Empson Dec.     6,  1840 256 

155.  To  Mr.  Empson Dec.   16,1840 257 

156.  To  Mrs.  Empson Dec.  21,1840 258 

157.  To  Mrs.  Empson Mar.    2,  1841 259 

158.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes April  11,  1841 261 

159.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes April25,  1841 262 

160.  To  Lord  Cockburn May     4,  1841 265 

161.  To  Mrs.  C.  Innes May     9,1841 268 

162.  To  John  Richardson,  Esq Nov.    1,  1841 274 

163.  To  Mrs.  Rutherfurd April  29,  1842 275 

164.  To  Andrew  Rutherfurd,  Esq July  11,1842 278 

165.  To  Mr.  Empson 279 

166.  To  Mrs.  Empson 1842 290 

167.  To  Miss  Berry July  24,  1842 293 

168.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq Oct.    16,  1842 294 

169.  To  John  Richardson,  Esq Nov.  30,  1842 296 

170.  To  John  Ramsey  M'Culloch,  Esq.. Dec.  12,  1842 298 

171.  To  Lord  Cockburn Mar.  26,1843 299 

172.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq Dec.  26,  1843 300 

173.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq Feb.     1,  1844 302 

174.  To  Mrs.  Empson Feb.  27,1844 30.3 

175.  To  Mrs.  A.  Rutherfurd May     9,  1844 305 

176.  To  Mrs.  Fletcher... 14,  1844 306 


8  INDEX  TO   LETTERS. 

MM 

177.  To  Mrs.  Erapson July         1844 307 

178.  To  Mr.  Dickens Dec.  12,1844 308 

179.  To  Lord  Cockburn Mar.  26,  1845 311 

180.  To  Mrs.  Sidney  Smith June  14,  1845 312 

181.  To  Sir  George  Sinclair Aug.    1,  1846 313" 

182.  To  Mrs.  E.  Cayley Aug.    6,  1846 315 

183.  To  the  Hon.  the  Lady  John  Russell.Dec.  21,1846 317 

184.  To  Mrs.  Empson May  30, 318 

IS5.  To  Mrs.  Empson 320 

186.  To  Mr.  Charles  Dickens Jan.  31,  1847 321 

187.  To  Mr.  Empson Jan.  81,1847 325 

188.  To  Mrs.  Fletcher April  30,  1847 326 

189.  To  Mrs.  Empson May  23,1847 327 

190.  To  Mr.  Empson June    1,  1847 329 

191.  To  Mrs.  A.  Rutherfurd June  21,  1847 330 

192.  To  a  Grandchild June  21,  1847 332 

193.  To  the  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh.  July     1,  1847 333 

194.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq July     5,  1847 336 

195.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq Sept.  12,  1847 338 

196.  To  Mrs.  Empson Nov.     7,  1847 340 

197.  To  Mrs.  Fletcher 18,  1847 341 

198.  To  Mr.  Empson 26,1848 342 

199.  To  Mrs.  A.  Rutherfurd May         1848 345 

200.  To  a  Grandchild June  20,  1848 347 

201.  To  Mr.  Empson 348 

202.  To  Mr.  Cayley Aug.    8,  1848 349 

203.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq Nov.    5,  1848 351 

204.  To  Mr.  Empson 1848 352 

205.  To  Mr.  Empson Jan.  19,1849 352 

206.  To  John  Macpherson  Macleod,  Esq.  Feb.   15,1849 353 

207.  To  Mr.  Empson Mar.  20,1849 361 

208.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq July  27,1849 365 

209.  To  Mr.  Alexander  Maclagan Jan.     4,  1850.. ....365 

21.0.  To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq Jan.     6,  1850 366 

211.  To  Mr.  John  Crawford Jan.     6,  1850 367 


LIFE   OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 


SELECTION  FROM  CORRESPONDENCE. 


1. —  To  his  sister  Mary,  afterward  Mrs.  Napier. 

Glasgow,  1789. 

IN  case  I  forget,  I  wish  you  would  bring  with  you  a  copy 
of  Virgil,  such  as  that  John  reads  at  school, — the  one  I 
have  being  rather  troublesome  to  carry  with  me  when  I  go 
to  walk,  r  don't  know  what  account  I  shall  give  of  my- 
self to  Papa,  for  I  have  attended  all  my  classes  very  ill, 
and  am  this  moment  under  a  summons  of  the  Principal  to 
compear  before  him  and  receive  condign  punishment  for 
non-appearance  in  the  Common  Hall  above  three  times  this 
session.  Poor  soul,  how  dost  thou  expect  to  escape  ?  Art 
thou  ignorant  that  the  faculty  have  no  moderation,  or  dost 
thou  not  know  that  tears  avail  not  ?  Lightly  as  I  talk  of 
this  matter,  (general  matter  I  mean,)  I  am  somewhat  un- 
easy with  regard  to  the  ideas  my  father  may  entertain  of 
it.  I  hope,  however,  to  show  him  that  I  know  as  much  of 
the  matter  as  those  who  have  paid  a  more  regular  atten- 
tion. It  looks  ill,  however. 

9 


10  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

2. —  To  his  sister  Mary. 

Oxford,  October  26,  1791. 
My  dear  Mary — 

I  would  willingly  apologize  for  my  last  letter ;  of  the 
others  I  am  not  desirous  of  speaking.  They  only  failed  to 
give  you  pleasure.  It  may  have  given  you  pain.  I  am 
afraid  it  has,  but  this  is  all  conjecture,  for  I  have  written  so 
many  letters  since,  that  I  cannot  say  I  have  any  accurate 
recollection  of  its  contents ;  only  I  am  sure  from  the  hu- 
mour I  was  then  in,  it  must  have  been  very  querulous  and 
melancholy ;  and  I  am  now  to  bid  adieu  to  that  humour ; 
I  have  already  re-assumed  that  merriment  of  soul,  that 
airiness  of  disposition,  which  has  hitherto  elevated  me  above 
the  atmosphere  of  sorrow.  Not  yet ; — though  the  clouds 
of  that  atmosphere  no  longer  oppress  me  with  that  intole- 
rable load  under  which  I  panted  at  first.  I  feel  that  I  shall 
never  become  attached  to  this  place.  There  is  nothing  in 
it  to  interest  me,  and  though  I  may  cease  to  complain  of 
my  situation,  it  will  only  be  through  a  dull  and  despairing 
resignation.  I  have  succeeded  too  well  in  my  attempts  to 
form  a  local  attachment  to  Edinburgh  and  its  environs. 
My  solitary  walks,  my  afternoon  wanderings  by  the  Calton 
Hill  and  St.  Bernard's,  have  imprinted  those  objects  on  my 
heart,  and  insured  their  recollection  while  I  shall  continue 
to  know  myself. 

My  appearance  is  much  altered  since  I  came  here.  Do 
not,  however,  be  apprehensive  ;  for,  except  some  symptoms 
of  the  Swiss  disease,  I  am  in  perfect  health ;  and  indeed, 
while  I  am  in  the  house,  my  appearance  retains  its  old 
peculiarities.  But  without,  a  great  black  gown  and  the 
portentous  square  cap  conceal  the  elegance  of  my  form, 
and  overshadow  the  majesty  of  my  brow.  To  you  I  need 
not  describe  those  habiliments,  for  you  have  seen  them. 


TO   HIS   SISTER   MARY.  11 

Did  I  tell  you  the  manner  of  our  living  here  ?  We  occupy, 
each  of  us,  our  separate  apartments,  and  lock  ourselves  in 
at  night.  At  seven  o'clock  we  repair  to  prayers,  and  it 
•would  astonish  you  to  witness  the  activity  with  which  I 
spring  up  at  that  hour  in  this  cold  weather.  That  detains 
us  half  an  hour,  after  which  most  of  us  choose  to  walk  till 
nine  o'clock,  at  which  hour  a  George  (that  is  to  say  a  round 
penny  roll)  is  served  up,  with  a  bit  of  butter,  upon  a  pew- 
ter plate,  into  each  of  our  chambers,  where  we  provide  our 
own  tea  and  sugar.  We  do  not  often  breakfast  alone,  but 
generally  order  our  George  up  to  some  friend's  apartment, 
and  breakfast  sociably.  From  this  time  till  three  we  do 
what  we  please,  unless  there  be  any  lectures  to  attend ;  but 
at  three,  the  trumpet's  martial  voice  proclaims  the  hour  of 
dinner,  to  which  we  all  repair  in  the  Common  Hall,  after 
having  ordered,  in  our  way  through  the  kitchen,  whatever 
part  of  the  bill  of  fare  we  may  choose.  Allow  me  to  satisfy 
your  curiosity  by  informing  you  that  we  have  a  clean  table- 
cloth every  day.  After  dinner,  we  either  return  each  to 
his  own  apartment,  or,  what  is  more  common,  two  or  three 
together,  who  generally  drink  or  laugh  till  the  hour  of  five 
warns  the  bellman  to  call  us  again  to  prayers.  Very  few 
of  us  take  any  tea — I  have  never  yet.  Our  supper  is  served 
in  the  same  way  as  breakfast.  I  have  usually  chosen  to 
sup  alone,  and  have  not  yet  been  out  of  bed  beyond  eleven. 
Our  practice  upon  the  road  has  been  of  some  service  in 
preparing  me  for  those  hours  of  sleeping  and  waking.  You 
have  now  some  idea  how  I  live.  Stupidly  enough,  is  it 
not  ?  I  would  willingly  change  it.  This  would  be  tedious 
to  any  other  body ;  but,  judging  of  your  feelings  by  my 
own,  (and  I  hope  you  think  that  a  compliment,  as  I  meant 
it,)  I  am  convinced  you  will  read  it  with  satisfaction. 

I  used  to  think  a  hermit's  life  a  pleasant  one,  and  have 
often  said  that  solitude  is  infinitely  preferable  to  any  but 
the  best  society.  And,  to  say  the  truth,  I  still  prefer  it  to 
most  of  the  society  I  meet  with  here.  But  I  cannot  help 


12  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

regretting  that  which  I  have  abandoned  in  Scotland  ;  even 
those  for  whom,  when  they  were  present,  I  felt  no  affection 
nor  regard,  have  become  dear  to  me  now  that  I  can  no 
longer  enjoy  their  society.  I  do  not  like  my  tutor ;  I  can- 
not bring  him  to  be  on  that  footing  of  intimacy  to  which  I 
have  brought  all  his  predecessors.  I  long  for  some  object 
to  fill  up  the  void  which  the  abrupt  dissolution  of  so  many 
affections  has  left  in  my  heart. 

I  feel  I  shall  never  be  a  great  man,  unless  it  be  as  a 
poet ;  for,  though  I  have  a  boundless  ambition,  I  am  too 
much  the  slave  of  my  heart.  If  I  were  calmly  reposed  on 
the  bosom  of  felicity,  I  would  not  leave  my  family  to  enjoy 
a  triumph.  Write  instantly. — I  am  yours  affectionately. 


3. — To  his  sister  Mary. 

Oiford,  Queen's  College,  Nov.  2,  1791. 

Whence  arises  my  affection  for  the  moon  ?  I  do  not  be- 
lieve there  is  a  being,  of  whatever  denomination,  upon 
whom  she  lifts  the  light  of  her  countenance,  who  is  so  glad 
to  see  her  as  I  am  !  She  is  the  companion  of  my  melan- 
choly, and  the  witness  of  my  happiness.  There  are  few 
people  for  the  sake  of  whose  society  I  should  be  glad  to 
shut  her  out.  I  went  half  a  mile  yesterday  to  see  her  on 
the  water,  and  to-night  I  have  spent  the  most  pleasant  hour 
that  I  have  known  these  six  weeks  in  admiring  her  from 
my  back  window.  This  place  should  never  be  looked  on 
but  by  moonlight,  and  then,  indeed,  what  place  does  not 
look  well !  But  there  is  something  striking  here — you  re- 
collect it — the  deep  and  romantic  shades  on  the  sculptured 
towers — the  sparkle  of  their  gilded  vanes — their  black 
and  pointed  shadows  upon  the  smooth  green  turf  of  our 
courts — the  strong  shades  of  the  statues  over  the  library 
— the  yellow  and  trembling  heads  of  the  trees  beyond 
them !  Could  I  find  anybody  here  who  understood  these 


TO    HIS   SISTER   MAKY.  13 

matters,  or  who  thought  them  worth  being  understood,  I 
should  regain  my  native  enthusiasm  and  my  wonted  enjoy- 
ment ;  but  they  are  all  drunkards,  or  pedants,  or  coxcombs. 

How  little  does  happiness  depend  upon  ourselves  !  Mo- 
ralists may  preach  as  they  please,  but  neither  temperance, 
nor  fortitude,  nor  justice,  nor  charity,  nor  conscious  ge- 
nius, nor  fair  prospects,  have  power  to  make  anybody 
happy  for  two  days  together.  For  the  little  power  they 
have  they  are  indebted  to  their  novelty.  In  short,  all  our 
enjoyment  here  seems  to  depend  upon  a  certain  energy  and 
vigour  of  mind,  which  depend  upon — we  know  not  what. 
What  has  happened  to  me  since  the  morning  ?  that  I  am 
now  as  cheerful  and  gay  as  I  was  then  discontented  and 
unhappy !  I  believe  I  have  written  nonsense,  for  I  have 
written  wholly  from  myself. 

I  have  almost  put  out  my  eyes,  and  can  hardly  see  to 
tell  you  that  I  am  your  amiable  brother. 


4. — To  his  sister  Mary. 

Oxford,  December  12,  1791. 

Ah  Sorella  mia — 

How  do  you  employ  your  time  ?  I  often  think  the  oc- 
cupations of  a  lady — high  as  that  title  places  the  honoured 
bearer — are  of  a  more  servile  nature  than  that  of  a  man, 
and  retain  some  traces  of  the  genius  of  those  days  when 
all  the  drudgery  of  the  household  was  the  amusement  of 
its  mistress.  The  employments  of  all  men,  who  are  not 
mechanics,  are  chiefly  exertions  of  the  mind.  Those  of 
the  ladies  are,  in  general,  displays  of  mechanical  ingenuity; 
and  the  wife  of  a  lawyer,  of  a  divine,  and  a  poet,  resemble, 
in  their  occupation,  the  .industry  of  a  weaver  or  a  tailor 
more  than  that  of  her  husband.  For  my  part,  I  am  asto- 
nished how  you  can  continue  so  long  in  a  state  of  inaction ; 
and  it  is  the  sole  foundation  of  my  dislike  to  a  mechanical 

VOL.  II.— 2 


14  LIFE    OF    LOUD   JEFFREY. 

profession,  that  it  must  stagnate  and  suspend  those  pleasing 
labours  of  the  spirit,  from  which  alone  I  can  draw  either 
pride  or  satisfaction. 

To  what  a  superior  station  of  existence  does  not  a  taste 
for  literature  and  a  lively  fancy  elevate  the  mind  !  How 
much  superior  does  it  render  a  man  to  all  wealth  and  power 
— to  all  fortune  or  fate.  The  source  of  the  satisfaction 
I  believe  to  be  pride  ;  but  I  love  to  feel  it  nevertheless.  I 
shall  not  go  to  London  this  vacation.  A  little  reflection 
and  a  little  advice  have  determined  me  to  keep  where  I  am 
for  another  term.  So,  while  you  and  all  the  world  are 
laughing,  and  feasting,  and  rejoicing,  I  shall  continue  quiet- 
ly and  soberly,  eating  my  commons,  and  reading  my  folios. 
I  cannot  say  I  feel  either  dejection  or  envy  in  the  idea. 
May  they  be  all  as  happy  as  they  can,  say  I  to  myself,  I 
shall  be  so  much  the  more  so.  This  is  one  advantage  of 
the  literary  and  philosophic  turn — we  scorn  to  owe  our 
satisfaction  to  any  thing  else ;  and  so,  when  the  more  ordi- 
nary means  of  enjoyment  are  withheld,  Pshaw,  we  say,  we 
can  do  without  them,  and  then  begin  to  despise  the  splen- 
dour of  courts.  The  sky  is  heavy  with  weight  of  snow,  and 
is  easing  itself  as  fast  as  possible.  I  suppose  we  shall  be 
wading  up  to  the  arm-pits  to  chapel  to-morrow. 

I  am  yours  affectionately. 

5. — To  Miss  Crockett,  a  cousin. 

Oxford,  9th  March,  1792. 

My  dear  Crocke — I  fancy  I  have  provoked  you.  I  have 
entirely  forgotten  what  I  wrote  in  my  last,  but  recollect 
that  it  was  written  immediately  after  a  very  hearty  dinner, 
on  a  very  cold  and  a  very  cloudy  day.  I  conclude  it  was 
incredibly  amusing.  I  beg  your  pardon — I  excuse  your 
silence — and  I  proceed.  But  I  would  excuse  any  thing  at 
present,  for  I  am  mollified  and  melted  to  the  very  temper 


TO    MISS    CROCKETT.  15 

of  a  lamb  within  these  three  weeks,  and  all  owing  to  the 
reading  of  some  very  large  and  admirably  elegant  books ; 
which  have  so  stupefied  and  harassed  my  understanding,  so 
exercised  and  confirmed  my  patience,  and,  withal,  so  petri- 
fied and  deadened  my  sensibility,  that  I  can  no  longer 
perceive  or  resent  any  injury  or  affront  that  might  be 
offered  me.  I  have  just  intellect  enough  remaining  to  sug- 
gest the  impropriety  of  proclaiming  this  my  unhappy  state, 
so  tempting  to  insult  or  malice ;  but  I  know  to  whom  I 
confide  the  secret,  and  I  know  that  I  am  safe ;  for  benevo- 
lence and  compassion,  especially  when  allied  to  a  genuine 
nobility  of  spirit,  will  never  take  advantage  of  infirmity  or 
misfortune ;  and  the  assurance  of  impunity  can  only  be  a 
temptation  to  the  ungenerous  and  unfeeling.  Now  I  beg 
you  would  never  think  of  copying  such  sentences  as  these 
— I  mean  when  you  write  to  me  on  any  other  occasion.  I 
am  sure  your  purer  taste  must  render  the  caution  super- 
fluous. There  is  a  charm  in  simplicity  and  naturality  of 
expression,  for  which  neither  excellent  sense,  nor  egregious 
sentiment,  nor  splendid  diction  can  compensate.  But  this 
simplicity,  in  this  vile,  conceited,  and  puerile  age,  it  is  in- 
finitely difficult  to  acquire ;  and  all  our  best  writers  since 
Shakspeare,  except  the  gentle  Addison,  and  sometimes 
Sterne,  have  given  up  the  attempt  in  despair,  and  trusted 
to  gaudier  vehicles  for  the  conveyance  of  their  respective 
reputations  to  the  ears  of  posterity  and  the  mansion  of 
fame ;  which  practice,  you  will  allow,  is  greatly  to  the  pre- 
judice of  those  who  are  taught  to  consider  them  as  the 
models  of  fine  writing.  However,  I  intend  in  a  year  or 
two  to  correct  the  depravity  of  taste,  and  to  revive  the 
simple  and  the  sublime  in  all  their  purity  and  in  all  their 
majesty.  This,  you  will  perceive,  is  private  and  confiden- 
tial. I  wish  you  understood  Latin,  and  particularly  Greek, 
that  you  might  understand  what  it  is  that  I  am  talking 
about,  in  which  wish  I  doubt  nothing  you  join  me  most  cor- 
dially. Now  you  conceive  I  am  grown  a  pedant ;  that  I 


16  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

have  done  nothing  but  read  law,  and  language,  and  science, 
since  I  came  here.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth,  though  it 
would  be  a  pity  to  undeceive  you  in  an  error  so  flattering 
to  my  diligence  and  industry  ?  I  never  was  so  dissipated 
in  my  life  ;  being  out  almost  every  day,  and  pestered  with 
languor  all  the  morning.  But  the  vacation  is  coming  on, 
and  we  shall  have  leisure  enow,  and  there  will  be  nothing 
but  reading,  and  then  we  will  get  learning  enow,  &c. 

Write  me  a  letter  as  long  as  these  two  last  of  mine,  and 
believe  me,  yours  intensely,  F.  JEFFREY. 

Q.—To  Miss  Crockett. 

Oxford,  10th  June,  1792. 

Dear  Crocke — My  memory  is  strangely  confused.  I  am 
positive  that  I  wrote  to  you,  about  the  date  of  your  last, 
but  whether  before  or  after  receiving  it,  I  vainly  fatigue 
myself  to  remember.  I  am  still  in  the  same  state  of  uncer- 
tainty with  regard  to  my  return  to  Scotland,  which  I 
endeavoured  to  relieve  by  the  inquiries  you  satisfied  so 
kindly — for  you  will  allow  that  these  responses  form  no 
authority ;  but  my  suspense  must  necessarily  receive  a 
speedy  termination,  as  I  have  some  time  ago  applied  to  my 
father  for  an  absolute  and  categorical  answer.  If  this  an- 
swer be  such  as  I  desire  and  expect,  I  shall  see  you  long 
before  harvest,  for  in  less  than  a  fortnight  the  period  of 
my  academical  residence  expires,  and  I  am  inclined  to  bar- 
gain with  them  as  strictly  as  possible,  &c.  &c.  .  .  «,.  » 
•I  rejoice  in  the  idea  of  returning  among  you,  because  I 
shall  then  recover  leisure,  tranquillity,  and  content — be- 
cause I. shall  then  once  more  behold  the  image  of  domestic 
peace,  and  experience  that  soft  and  soothing  sort  of  satis- 
faction which  the  temperate  affections  of  relationship,  &c. 
contribute  to  form.  You  must  not,  therefore,  expect  any 
symptoms  of  complete  happiness ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 


TO   HIS   BROTHER.  17 

must  be  prepared  to  behold  a  countenance  rather  dismal, 
bearing  traces  of  regret  for  time  squandered  and  money 
misspent — showing  visibly  the  vestiges  of  disappointment, 
and  shaded  by  an  expression  of  anxiety  and  thoughtfulness 
justified  and  introduced  by  my  situation.  This,  however, 
is  Sunday,  and  has  been  gladdened  with  no  sun.  So  in  the 
gloom  I  may  have  shaded  rather  too  deeply.  This  is  very 
shameful  weather,  but  very  favourable  for  study.  I  do  my 
endeavour  at  times,  but  have  neither  memory  nor  perse- 
verance. Oxford  is  no  longer  so  deeply  the  object  of  my 
detestation  as  it  was.  I  no  longer  feel  the  rigour  of  its 
exactions;  I  don't  go  to  lecture  more  than  thrice  a  week; 
and  for  morning  prayers,  I  have  not  thought  of  them  this 
half  year.  That  deceitful  fellow  of  a  tutor  took  advantage 
of  my  ignorance,  and  told  me  nothing  but  lies. 
Yours  sincerely,  &c.  F.  JEFFREY. 

7. — To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  30th  March,  1793. 

My  dear  John* — 

There  are  no  news  here  but  public  news,  and  these  are 
too  copious,  too  notorious,  and  too  unpleasing,  to  be  chroni- 
cled by  my  pen.  I  care  very  little  in  my  own  person  about 
government  or  politics  ;  but  I  cannot  see  without  pain  the 
destructive  violence  of  both  parties — a  violence  which,  even 
in  its  triumph,  can  never  be  productive  of  peace ;  since 
Opinion  is  endeared  by  contradiction — since  force  is  insuffi- 
cient to  convince — and  since  affection  is  riveted  to  those 
principles  in  whose  cause  we  have  suffered.  Such  is  the 
state  of  the  public  mind,  that  I  get  the  name  of  a  violent 
man  for  regretting  the  effusion  of  blood,  and  for  wishing 
for  universal  concord  ! 


*  Who  was  iu  America. 
2* 


18  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Your  worship  has  thought  fit  to  keep  me  excluded  from 
the  circle  of  your  new  friends.  But  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  I  detest  so  much  as  companions  and  acquaintances, 
as  they  are  called.  Where  intimacy  has  gone  so  far  as  to 
banish  reserve,  to  disclose  character,  and  to  communicate 
the  reality  of  serious  opinions,  the  connection  may  be  the 
source  of  much  pleasure — it  may  ripen  into  friendship,  or 
subside  into  esteem.  But  to  know  half  a  hundred  fellows 
just  so  far  as  to  speak  and  walk  and  lounge  with  them  ;  to 
be  acquainted  with  a  multitude  of  people,  for  all  of  whom 
together  you  do  not  care  one  farthing ;  in  whose  company 
you  speak  without  any  meaning,  and  laugh  without  any 
enjoyment ;  whom  you  leave  without  any  regret,  and  rejoin 
without  any  satisfaction ;  from  whom  you  learn  nothing, 
and  in  whom  you  love  nothing — to  have  such  a  set  for  your 
society,  is  worse  than  to  live  ia  absolute  solitude ;  and  is 
a  thousand  times  more  pernicious  to  the  faculties  of  social 
enjoyment,  by  circulating  in  its  channels  a  stream  so 
insipid.  Thus  we  form  men  of  the  world — the  most  un- 
happy and  most  unamiable  of  beings. 

Dear  Hiero,  yours  very  affectionately. 


S.—To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  25th  June,  1793. 

My  dear  Robert* — I  sit  down  to  write  to  you  at 
present,  merely  because  I  feel  a  conviction  that  I  ought 
to  do  so,  and  an  inclination  to  do  so,  without  any  hopes 
of  amusing,  or  great  probability  of  pleasing  you.  A 
certain  load  of  sensations  which  possessed  me  all  the 
time  I  was  at  Herbertshire,  and  which  I  had  not  the 
resolution  to  express,  I  have  since  endeavoured  to  over- 
come, and  will  not  allow  myself  at  present  to  indulge. 

*       *  Mr.  Morehead,  senior,  had  recently  died. 


TO    ROBERT   MOREHEAD.  19 

Though  I  never  experienced  more  sorrow  and  regret  than 
during  the  period  of  my  late  visit,  I  am  now  well  pleased 
that  I  have  made  it,  since  I  have  seen  that  reality  which 
my  imagination  had  so  far  outgone.  I  will  not  speak  to 
you  of  what  has  happened,  nor  trust  myself  to  offer  you 
consolation  on  a  subject  where  I  am  not  sufficiently 
indifferent  to  be  convincing.  We  cannot  but  remember 
such  things  were ;  nor  would  we  wish,  I  think,  to  forget 
them.  There  is  a  sanctity  in  such  recollections  which  ele- 
vates and  refines ;  a  tenderness  which  endears  while  it 
distresses ;  and  from  which  it  is  not  by  indifference  that  we 
wish  to  be  relieved.  It  is  needless  to  say  more.  These 
impressions  are  to  be  preserved,  and  to  be  reserved ;  by 
them  we  are  restored  to  those  from  whom  we  have  parted, 
and  enabled  to  converse  with  those  who  yet  live  in  our 
affections.  Yet  it  is  not  fit  that  this  temper  be  indulged  to 
the  utmost.  That  unfortunate  disposition  of  mind  which, 
under  the  cover  of  an  amiable  tendency,  is  apt  to  establish 
itself  in  the  breast ;  which  leads  us  to  lose  the  present  in 
the  remembrance  of  the  past,  and  extends  to  the  entire  and 
varied  scenes  of  felicity  the  gloom  which  may  darken  its 
immediate  confines ;  which  broods  deeply  over  calamities 
which  admit  not  of  relief,  and  grows  insensible  to  comfort 
by  the  habitual  contemplation  of  distress — such  a  disposi- 
tion is,  of  all  others,  the  most  to  be  repressed,  and  the  most 
to  be  apprehended.  We  mourn  not  for  the  dead,  but  for 
the  living ;  we  weep  for  our  misfortunes  ;  and  we  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  an  excess  in  the  indulgence  of  a  feeling 
which  borders  pretty  nearly  upon  selfishness.  I  do  not  say 
this  because  I  think  it  applicable  or  necessary  in  your  case, 
but  because  I  feel  it  to  be  true,  and  because  I  can  say  no- 
thing else  upon  a  subject  on  which  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  be  silent. 

Yours  very  affectionately. 


20  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

9.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  2d  March,  1794. 

My  dear  John — I  wrote  you  very  lately,  indeed  in  the 
beginning  of  last  week ;  sending  my  letter  in  a  box  that 
was  to  go  by  Captain  Scott,  who,  I  daresay,  will  not  leave 
Britain  sooner  than  this.  The  easy  consciences  of  our 
ladies  are  satisfied  with  the  recollection  of  the  recent  dis- 
charge, and  give  no  attention  to  the  speeches  in  which  I 
have  been  admonishing  them  of  the  hazard  to  which  they 
expose  their  own  regularity,  and  your  tranquillity,  by  their 
neglect.  But  I,  who  possess,  as  you,  an  unwearied  spirit 
in  doing  courtesies,  have  undertaken  their  task,  and  their 
apology,  &c. 

I  have  been  so  closely  occupied  in  hearing  and  writing 
law  lectures  ever  since  November,  that  a  short  interval  of 
leisure  very  much  distresses  me ;  for  the  habit  I  have  ac- 
quired of  doing  nothing  but  my  task,  prevents  me  from 
laying  it  out  to  any  advantage,  and  the  shortness  of  its  du- 
ration will  not  allow  me  to  supplant  that  habit.  If  this  be 
a  specimen  of  the  life  which  I  am  hereafter  to  lead,  though 
the  stupidity  which  accompanies  it  may  prevent  me  from 
feeling  much  actual  uneasiness,  yet  the  remembrance  of 
other  days  will  always  be  attended  with  regret.  That  sort 
of  resignation  of  spirit  which  was  favoured  by  the  depres- 
sion and  the  confinement  of  winter,  is  beginning  to  fail  on 
the  approach  of  spring  ;  and,  raised  by  the  rustling  of  the 
western  gales,  and  the  buds,  and  the  sun,  and  the  showers, 
my  spirits  have  awakened  once  again,  and  are  execrating 
the  torpor  -in  which  they  have  been  lost.  This  I  write  you 
merely  because  it  is  what  is  uppermost  in  my  mind  at  pre- 
sent, and  because  I  would  have  you  accustomed  in  due  time 
sot  to  look  for  my  success  as  a  man  of  business.  Every 
day  I  see  greater  reason  for  believing  that  this  romantic 
temper  will  never  depart  from  me  now.  Vanity  indulged 
it  at  the  first,  but  it  has  obtained  the  support  of  habit,  and, 
as  I  think,  of  reason,  &c. — I  am,  yours  very  truly. 


TO   HIS   BEOTHER.  21 


10.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  1st  June,  1794. 

My  dear  John — What  shall  I  say  to  you  now  ?  or  what 
will  you  say  for  yourself,  when  you  come  to  know  that  we 
have  received  no  letters  from  you  for  three  months,  &c. 

We  are  in  a  strange  situation  enough  here.  I  have  often 
determined  to  send  you  a  detailed  account  of  the  state  of 
the  puhlic  mind  of  this  country,  but  have  always  wanted 
room,  or  time,  or  something,  as  indeed  I  do  at  present. 
However,  I  must  say  a  few  words.  Every  man,  you  know, 
who  thinks  at  all,  must  think  differently  from  every  other ; 
hut  there  are  three  parties,  I  think,  distinguishable  enough. 
The  first,  which  is  the  loudest,  and  I  believe  the  most  pow- 
erful, is  that  of  the  fierce  aristocrats — men  of  war,  with 
their  swords  and  their  rank — men  of  property,  with  their 
hands  on  their  pockets,  and  their  eyes  staring  wildly  with 
alarm  and  detestation — men  of  indolence  and  morosity, 
and,  withal,  men  of  place  and  expectation.  The  desperate 
democrats  are  the  second  order — numerous  enough  too,  and 
thriving  like  other  sects  under  persecution.  Most  of  them 
are  led ;  so  their  character  is  to  be  taken  from  that  of  their 
leaders.  These  are,  for  the  most  part,  men  of  broken  for- 
tunes, and  of  desperate  ambition,  and  animated  by  views 
very  different  from  their  professions.  To  these  are  joined 
some,  whom  a  generous  and  sincere  enthusiasm  has  borne 
beyond  their  interest ;  irritated  perhaps  excessively  at  the 
indiscriminating  intolerance  of  the  alarmists,  and  zealous 
in  the  assertion  of  some  truths,  which  those  with  whom  they 
co-operate  have  used  as  a  decoy.  The  third  order  is  that 
of  philosophers,  and  of  course  very  small.  These  necessa- 
rily vary  in  their  maxims  and  opinions,  and  only  agree  in 
blaming  something  more  or  less  in  both  parties,  and  in 
endeavouring  to  reconcile  their  hostility.  We  have  been 
disturbed  by  rumours  of  conspiracy  and  intended  massacre ; 


22  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

certainly  exaggerated  by  the  organs  of  alarm,  but  probably 
not  destitute  of  all  foundation  ;  and  many  precautions  are 
taking  to  secure  our  peace  upon  the  approaching  birth- 
day, &c.* 

You  will  see  the  progress  of  the  war.  I  wish  you  could 
see  the  end  of  it,  and  hope  most  fervently  that  it  will  not 
extend  itself  between  your  country  and  mine,  though  your 
fortifications  and  embargo  are  very  ominous.  Tell  me  what 
you  think  of  the  mad  people  of  Europe.  Such  things  should 
come  near  the  minds  of  individuals,  and  they  do  occupy  a 
large  share  in  ordinary  discourse.  But  in  the  detail  of 
domestic  life  and  spontaneous  meditation,  which  has  to  dis- 
tinguish the  character  of  men  and  the  objects  of  their 
genuine  regard,  I  do  not  perceive  that  they  enter  very 
deeply.  One  speaks  upon  politics  in  general  company  with 
one's  acquaintance ;  at  home,  and  with  one's  friends,  they 
are  scarcely  to  be  heard.  Men  jest,  and  laugh,  and  sleep, 
and  love,  and  quarrel,  without  any  regard  to  the  state  of 
the  nation,  or  much  thought  of  their  political  duties  or 
rights.  In  this  age  I  fancy  it  must  be  so  everywhere.  But 
according  to  these  principles,  it  is  treating  you  like  a  stran- 
ger to  dwell  so  long  upon  these  topics.  Why  do  you  not 
tell  me  more  of  the  American  women,  and  particularly  of 
the  fair  Quakeress  of  Boston  ? — I  am,  dear  John,  yours,  &c. 

11. — To  Mr.  Rpbert  Morehead. 

Herbertshire,  22d  December,  1795. 

My  dear  Bob — I  miss  you  more  here  than  I  did  in  Edin- 
burgh ;  and,  though  I  only  came  here  yesterday,  I  can  live 
no  longer  without  talking  to  you  in  some  way  or  other. 
While  I  was  at  home,  I  used  to  imagine  that  you  were  here 
as  usual,  and  did  not  feel  myself  more  separated  than  I  was 
during  the  whole  of  last  winter.  But  here,  where  I  am  so 

*  The  birthday  of  George  the  Third,  on  4th  June. 


TO   ROBERT   MOREHEAD.  23 

much  accustomed  to  be  with  you,  I  am  made  sensible  of 
wanting  you  morning,  noon,  and  night,  &c. 

Have  you  ever  observed  that  the  letters  of  friends  are 
filled  with  egotism  ?  For  my  part,  I  think  very  suspicious- 
ly of  every  letter  that  is  not,  and  propose  my  own  as  a 
model  to  you  in  this  respect.  Indeed,  when  a  man  writes, 
as  I  do  now,  merely  from  the  loquacity  of  friendship,  and 
the  recollection  of  personal  intimacy,  what  subject  can  he 
have  but  himself,  or  the  person  to  whom  he  writes  ?  His 
letter,  therefore,  will  be  a  succession  of  egotisms  and 
inquiries,  which  will  fall  to  be  answered  by  egotisms  and 
retaliated  inquiries.  Such  letters  are  to  me  always  the 
most  interesting,  and  indeed  the  only  interesting ;  for  sure- 
ly whatever  you  tell  me,  or  whatever  reflection  you  make, 
might  have  been  conveyed  to  me  by  any  other  channel,  and 
is  only  interesting  by  its  distant  relation  to  you.  I  believe 
this  is  true  with  every  other  composition  as  well  as  letters, 
and  all  the  pathetic  passages  in  an  author  will  be  found  to 
be  egotistical  to  the  feelings  of  the  speaker.  For  as  no 
other  can  feel  as  strongly  a  man's  situation  as  himself,  his 
own  account  of  it  must  always  be  the  most  animated  and 
more  engaging,  for  the  most  part,  than  his  account  of  any 
thing  else.  I  don't  know  why  I  have  been  led  so  far  from 
myself  as  to  tell  you  all  this,  but  I  return  immediately  upon 
recollection.  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  studying,  and 
what  distribution  you  make  of  your  time.  I  have  been 
doing  little  but  vexing  myself  with  law.  However,  I  have 
set  to  a  new  history  of  the  American  war,  and  read  Mrs 
Woolstoncroft's  French  Revolution  and  other  democratical 
books  with  great  zeal  and  satisfaction.  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  about  your  Balliol  political  clubs.  I  have  also 
written  600  lines  in  a  translation  of  the  Argos  of  old  Ap- 
pollonius,  which  I  am  attempting  in  the  style  of  Cowper's 
Homer ;  and  it  is  not  much  further  below  him,  than  my 
original  is  under  his.  We  have  had  no  sunshine  nor  frost 
here  for  three  weeks,  and  are  almost  melted  with  rain.  The 


. 


24  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Carron  is  bellowing  with  a  most  dreadful  violence  at  this 
moment,  &c. 

12. — To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  7th  May,  1796. 

Bobby,  man — What  are  you  doing  ?  If  I  have  written 
you  three  letters,  why  do  you  not  write  me  three  ?  Are 
we  to  relapse  again  into  our  obsolete  style  of  apologies  and 
reproaches  ?  &c.  I  almost  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  attend- 
ed at  the  commemoration  of  the  first  of  May,*  in  spite  of 
your  absence,  and  wearied  almost  as  much  as  I  used  to  do 
when  you  were  there.  The  elocution  was  rather  worse  than 
that  of  last  year,  nor  was  any  thing  very  different  or  re- 
markable, but  the  abilities  of  young  Watt,f  who  obtained 
by  far  the  greatest  number  of  prizes,  and  degraded  the 
prize  readers  most  inhumanly  by  reading  a  short  composi- 
tion of  his  own,  a  translation  of  the  chorus  in  the  Medea, 
with  so  much  energy  and  grace,  that  the  verses  seemed  to 
me  better  perhaps  than  they  were  in  reality.  He  is  a 
young  man  of  very  eminent  capacity,  and  seems  to  have  all 
the  genius  of  his  father,  with  a  great  deal  of  animation  and 
ardour  which  is  all  his  own.  I  expected  at  one  time  to 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  making  myself  more  intimately 
acquainted  with  him,  as  he  engaged  to  walk  with  me  from 
Glasgow  to  Edinburgh,  but  was  prevented  by  some  orders 
from  his  father,  so  I  came  alone.  I  shall  be  constantly 
here,  I  suppose,  till  after  your  arrival  in  Scotland — an 
event  to  which  we  can  now  look  forward  with  some  distinct- 
ness and  certainty.  You  will  not  find  me,  I  believe,  very 
much  of  a  lawyer,  either  in  employment  or  conversation,  nor 
indeed  much  altered,  I  fancy,  from  what  I  was  when  you 
saw  me  last. — I  am,  dear  Bob,  most  truly  yours. 

*  The  annual  prize  distribution  at  Glasgow  College. 

f  Gregory  Watt,  a  son  of  James  Watt,  who,  after  giving  evidence  of 
talents  worthy  of  his  illustrious  father,  died  in  his  twenty-seventh  year, 
in  1805 


TO    HIS    BROTHER.  25 


13.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  20th  May,  1796 

My  dear  John — I  wrote  you  in  the  beginning  of  this 
month,  and  promised,  and  meant  to  have  written  you  again 
within  a  shorter  time  than  I  have  already  permitted  to  pass. 
I  have  been  ever  since,  indeed,  most  abominably  idle,  and 
neglected  every  kind  of  duty  and  engagement.  I  have  a 
way,  too,  of  replying  to  my  conscience,  when  it  importunes 
me  on  your  behalf,  that  I  have  already  done  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  was  bound  to  do,  and  that  if  I  do  neglect  you 
for  a  little  while,  it  is  but  a  fair  and  slight  return  for  the 
many  omissions  of  which  you  have  already  been  guilty.  If 
you  were  to  make  it  an  excuse  that  you  have  nothing  to 
say,  it  would  not  be  true ;  for  I  have  asked  you  a  hundred 
questions  which  you  have  never  yet  answered,  and  it  would 
besides  be  an  excuse  which  I  have  never  allowed  to  seduce 
me,  though  it  be  continually  present  to  me,  and  does  very 
well  to  palliate  the  stupidity  of  my  letters,  though  I  will 
not  let  it  prevent  me  from  writing  them. 

It  is  now  just  about  a  year  since  you  visited  us  Here, 
though  it  seems  to  me,  upon  recollection,  the  shortest  year 
that  I  ever  spent.  If  they  go  on  shortening  as  they  mul- 
tiply upon  us,  we  shall  grow  old  in  such  a  hurry  that  our 
schemes  of  life  will  be  left  unfinished,  and  we  shall  scarcely 
know  how  we  have  lived  when  we  are  summoned  to  die. 
For  my  part,  I  have  such  a  deal  of  business  upon  my  hands, 
that  I  must  be  allowed  a  good  long  day  to  finish  it  in.  I 
have  to  visit  one-half  at  least  of  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
and  gather  together  one-half  of  its  learning.  Then  I  have 
to  seek  me  out  some  angelic  partner,  and  engender  a  dozen 
or  two  of  children,  and  educate  them  after  our  own  image. 
And,  above  all,  and  what  should  have  come  first,  I  have  to 
acquire  a  comfortable  fortune,  and  a  pretty  independence 
of  all  men  and  all  events.  Of  this  I  have  not  yet  seen  the 

VOL.  II.— 3 


26  UFK    OF    LORD   JEFFRKT. 

beginning,  and  am  better  pleased,  indeed,  to  imagine  the 
end  than  to  investigate  how  I  am  likely  to  get  at  it. 

But  not  to  wander  any  further,  which,  in  my  American 
correspondence,  I  feel  myself  much  tempted  to  do,  I  have  to 
satisfy  you  in  a  few  words  as  to  all  your  friends  here,  by 
informing  you  that  they  remain  so  much  in  the  condition 
in  which  you  left  them,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me,  who 
have  been  continually  with  them,  to  discover  any  change. 
My  father,  I  think,  is  rather  better  if  any  thing,  although 
almost  as  desperate  an  aristocrat  as  before,  &c. 

Our  friend  Dr.  Spence  protests  that  he  will  be  on  your 
continent  in  a  month  or  two.  His  affairs  in  Carolina  ara 
not  yet  managed  to  his  satisfaction,  and  the  opportunity 
of  Pinkney's  retreat  tempts  him  with  the  prospect  of  good 
accommodation.  I  do  not  think  he  will  go,  and  wish  he 
•would  send  me  ; — for  to  come  to  myself,  I  am  doing  very 
little  here,  and  see  the  competition  of  interest  and  relation- 
ship grow  so  extensive  every  day  in  our  profession,  that, 
with  all  the  sanguine  spirits  in  the  world,  I  cannot  believe 
that  my  share  of  its  profits  will  ever  be  worth  very  much. 
I  spend  my  time,  however,  in  gratitude  to  Providence  I 
must  say  it,  more  pleasantly  at  present  than  if  I  were  more 
employed  in  the  law.  I  read  Don  Quixote  and  Lopez  de 
Yega  in  Spanish,  and  work  away  in  my  Greek  translations 
with  a  fine  poetical  fury.  Within  these  ten  days  I  have 
also  begun  a  course  of  medical  reading,  and  expect  to  de- 
serve a  degree  before  the  end  of  summer.  It  is  the  finest 
weather  in  the  world.  The  whole  country  is  covered  with 
green  and  blossoms.  And  the  sun  shines  perpetually 
through  a  light  east  wind,  which  would  have  brought  you 
here  from  Boston  since  it  began  to  blow.  Write  me  a  long 
account  of  your  situation,  your  prospects,  metamorphoses, 
and  meditations ;  and,  above  all,  if  you  must  become  weary 
in  the  cause  of  writing  to  me,  do  not  at  least  let  me  see  it 
so  plainly,  nor  lengthen  out  a  languid  page  with  laborious 
sentences,  &c. 


TO    GEORGE    J.   BELL. 


14.—  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq. 

Herbertshire,  7th  October,  1796. 

Dear  Bell — You  take  your  turn,  I  see,  to  rage  and  re- 
vile. I  like  to  see  that.  It  gives  me  courage,  and  excuses 
for  going  on  in  my  favourite  style  when  my  turn  comes 
round  again.  You  have  taken  a  long  time,  however,  to 
reply  to  the  letter  which  put  you  into  such  a  passion. 
Now,  my  furies  are  a  great  deal  more  natural,  for  they 
assault  immediately  upon  provocation.  However,  we  shall 
make  some  allowance  for  your  prodigious  business  and 
natural  proneness  to  anger,  and  say  no  more  about  it,  &c. 

I  pass  my  time  here  much  more  to  my  own  satisfaction. 
When  my  friend  Bob  is  absent  I  am  rarely  visible  till  din- 
ner-time, and  read  and  write  in  so  great  a  variety  of  acts 
and  interludes,  that  there  is  almost  as  little  fatigue  as  in- 
struction in  it.  As  I  have  given  myself  no  task,  I  think 
myself  privileged  to  be  idle.  So  I  exult  and  compliment 
myself  whenever  I  do  any  thing,  and  feel  no  remorse  when 
I  do  ilothing,  and  I  never  do  worse.  I  have  had  a  little 
experiment  of  solitude  for  two  days  past — the  whole  house- 
hold having  been  engaged  one  day  to  a  formal  visitation, 
and  the  next  to  the  county  ball ;  and  I  having  obstinately 
refused  to  accompany  them*  to  either,  I  have  been  left  to 
the  absolute  and  uncontrolled  possession  of  the  house  ;  and 
have  spent  two  such  tranquil,  romantic  days,  that  I  am 
determined  to  get  a  cottage,  or  a  tub,  or  some  such  con- 
venience, for  myself  in  a  wilderness  next  summer,  and 
purify  and  exalt  myself  by  my  own  conversation  for  some 
months.  I  think  I  must  make  the  experiment  of  eating 
grass,  or  some  other  kind  of  provender,  for  it  would  quite 
destroy  the  elegance  of  my  seclusion  to  have  a  baker's  boy 
and  a  butcher  and  an  old  woman  continually  intruding 
upon  me.  Nothing  can  be  more  ridiculous  than  fhe  way 
in  which  men  live  together  in  society,  and  the  patience 


28  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

•with  which  they  submit  to  the  needless  and  perpetual  re- 
straint that  they  occasion  to  one  another ;  and  the  worst 
of  it  is,  that  it  spoils  them  for  any  thing  better,  and  makes 
a  gregarious  animal  of  a  rational  being.  I  wish  I  had 
learned  some  mechanical  trade,  and  would  apply  to  it  yet, 
were  it  not  for  a  silly  apprehension  of  silly  observation. 
At  present  I  am  absolutely  unfit  for  any  thing ;  and,  with 
middling  capacities,  and  an  inclination  to  be  industrious, 
have  as  reasonable  a  prospect  of  starving  as  most  people  I 
know.  I  do  not  think  our  profession  will  do  for  me,  for, 
except  through  the  patronage  of  my  friends,  I  have  yet 
found  no  employment  in  it ;  and  I  do  not  at  present  recol- 
lect any  other  kind  of  occupation,  except,  indeed,  the  old 
ones  of  digging  or  begging,  for  which  I  am  at  all  qualified. 
This  is  lamentable  enough,  particularly  in  this  age  of  poli- 
tics, and  to  a  man  who  has  such  a  disposition  toward  mar- 
riage, and  beneficence,  and  reformation,  as  I  have. 

I  am  so  perfectly  undecided  as  to  my  future  motions 
during  this  vacation,  that  I  cannot  give  you  the  least  inti- 
mation of  the  time  when  I  shall  visit  Cults.  I  like  to 
reserve  for  every  moment  of  ray  time  the  privilege  of 
choosing  its  own  occupation,  and  see  no  necessity  for  tying 
myself  down  by  promises  to  do  what  I  may  afterward  dis- 
like, or  even  for  perplexing  myself  with  inquiries  into  my 
own  intentions,  and  the  probability  of  my  future  inclina- 
tions. However,  if  my  friend  Bob  sets  out  for  Oxford  from. 
Glasgow,  I  shall  probably  go  there  with  him  in  the  end  of 
next  week  ;  and  then  there  is  a  good  chance  for  my  passing 
by  Cults  to  Edinburgh,  though  I  may  be  disposed,  perhaps, 
rather  to  go  into  the  Highlands  a  little  way,  and  return  to 
Edinburgh  by  Dunkeld  and  St.  Andrews.  However,  I 
shall  take  care  to  let  you  know  before  I  come  upon  you. 
We  have  a  blue  sky  here,  and  white  clouds,  very  prettily 
fancied  ;  clear  northern  gales  from  the  shady  ridges  above 
us,  and  a  very  good  allowance  of  sunshine  for  the  fading 
woods  and  the  foamy  streams.  The  banks  of  the  Carrou 


TO    ROBERT    MOREHEAD.  29 

are  extremely  beautiful  here,  and  have  all  varieties  at  large, 
in  the  course  of  five  miles  ;  cultivated  plains,  with  corn, 
trees,  villages,  manufactures,  and  policies;*  rocky  and 
woody  glens  of  all  shapes  and  sizes;  and  desolate  valleys, 
between  stony  mountains,  and  breezy  sloping  pastures. 
It  would  be  worth  your  while  to  come  and  see  them  before 
the  leaves  fall.  I  can  assure  you  an  hospitable  reception. 
If  you  should  not  like  it,  you  will  return  to  Cults  and  Lord 
Stair  with  increased  relish.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are 
studying  anatomy.  It  is  better  than  law.  But  the  heart 
and  the  blood-vessels,  I  am  afraid,  would  be  too  much  for 
my  nerves.  I  wish  you  would  explain  them  to  me,  with- 
out making  me  think  of  my  own. — I  am  always  most  truly 
yours. 

15. — To  Mr.  Robert  MoreJiead. 

Edinburgh,  26th  November,  1796. 

My  dear  Bob — I  have  been  pestered  with  a  great  deal 
of  insignificant  and  unprofitable  business ;  till  I  have  got 
into  such  a  habit  of  complaining,  that  I  can  scarcely  help 
murmuring  even  when  I  get  a  fee.  In  these  moments  I 
envy  you  exceedingly,  and  think  that  I  should  be  almost 
quite  happy  if  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  read  and  amuse 
myself  from  one  week  to  another.  It  would  not  be  the 
case,  however.  A  man  must  have  something  to  do  in  order 
to  prevent  him  from  wearying  of  his  own  existence ;  and 
something  it  must  be,  imposed  upon  him  to  do,  under  more 
precise  and  specific  penalties  than  that  of  the  mere  weari- 
ness that  he  would  feel  by  neglecting  it.  So  that  if  he  be 
not  in  such  a  situation  as  will  sometimes  oblige  him  to 
complain  of  the  drudgery  to  which  he  is  tasked,  he  will 
generally  find  himself  in  a  situation  much  more  to  be 
complained  of.  This  is  a  very  comfortable  philosophy, 
and  very  convenient  for  the  cure  of  discontent,  though  it  is 


*  The  Scotch  term  for  pleasure-grounds. 
3* 


30  LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

often  rejected  when  the  fit  is  on,  and  can  only  be  forced 
down  by  great  vigour^  and  perseverance  on  the  part  of  the 
prescribes  Taken,  however,  along  with  a  due  proportion 
of  experience,  it  has  been  found  very  efficacious  as  a  pre- 
ventative.  Though  I  have  so  much  business  as  to  need 
the  application  of  these  profound  reflections,  I  begin  to 
weary  of  myself  too,  I  think,  sometimes,  and  take  up  a 
very  contemptible  notion  of  the  value  of  my  solitary  em- 
ployments. I  find  that  I  can  order  my  own  thoughts, 
and  pursue  to  a  clear  conclusion  any  speculation  that 
occurs,  with  infinitely  greater  ease  in  the  course  of  con- 
versation, than  by  thinking  or  writing  in  my  study ;  and 
that,  independently  of  the  information  I  may  derive  by 
observing  the  course  of  thought  in  my  companions.  I 
have  determined  to  extend  my  acquaintance  a  little  wider 
this  season  than  I  have  hitherto  done,  and  to  accustom 
myself  to  that  extemporary  exertion  which  the  purposes 
of  society  require.  One  is  apt,  I  know,  to  conceive  an 
undue  contempt  for  the  world  by  living  too  much  apart 
from  it ;  and  to  acquire  a  kind  of  dictatorial  and  confident 
manner  by  pursuing  all  one's  speculations  without  the  inter- 
ference of  anybody,  or  the  apprehension  of  any  corrector. 
My  situation  is  not  very  favourable  to  any  scheme  of 
making  new  acquaintances  ;  but  this  will  only  lead  me  to 
make  them  more  select,  as  it  will  limit  them  to  a  few.  I 
read  nothing  but  the  most  idle  kind  of  books,  and  write 
nothing  but  what  I  am  paid  for,  except  these  letters  to  you, 
and  one  or  two  more,  who  are  contented  to  take  them  as 
they  are.  Of  my  reading,  and  the  profit  I  am  likely  to 
derive  from  it,  you  may  judge  from  the  pile  of  books  that 
•were  brought  up  to  me  half  an  hour  ago  from  the  library. 
There  are  letters  from  Scandinavia,  a  collection  of  curious 
observations  upon  Africa,  Asia,  and  America,  a  book  of 
old  travels,  and  an  absurd  French  folio  romance,  and  I 
don't  know  what  besides.  I  ought  to  mention,  though,  that 
I  have  begun  to  read  Plato's  Republic,  though  I  advance 


TO    HIS    BROTHER.  31 

with  a  most  cautious  slowness  in  it.  I  have  resolved  too, 
as  I  believe  I  told  you  before,  to  read  a  regular  course  of 
chemistry  this  season,  and  am  just  wavering  and  deciding 
whether  I  should  enter  into  a  class  for  the  winter  that  will 
be  formed  in  a  week  hereafter.  Pray,  Bob,  are  you  a  de- 
mocrat ?  or  what  ?  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  my  exposing 
you.  I  shall  keep  any  thing  secret  that  you  please ;  but  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  have  these  things  quite  a  secret  from  me, 
and  am  especially  unwilling  to  let  you  still  keep  your  sen- 
timents of  them  a  secret  from  yourself.  You  need  have  no 
apprehensions  either  lest  I  should  fill  my  letters  with  po- 
litical discussions.  They  are  too  laborious  to  suit  the 
temper  in  which  I  usually  write  to  you,  and  too  large  to 
take  their  place  within  the  limits  of  a  letter.  I  forgot  in 
my  last  to  take  any  notice  of  your  plan  of  study.  I  am 
glad  that  the  view  you  have  taken  of  it  gave  you  pleasure 
and  humiliation.  These  are  exactly  the  emotions  which 
will  secure  your  improvement,  and  are  symptoms  as  favour- 
able as  could  have  appeared.  You  are  quite  right,  I  think, 
in  the  distribution  you  have  made  of  your  time,  except  that 
to  prescribe  a  certain  occupation,  even  to  days,  is  perhaps 
Ptill  too  minute.  You  can  have  no  better  regulator  than 
your  own  successive  opinions.  Let  me  hear  from  you,  dear 
Bobby,  very  soon,  and  inform  me  of  any  thing  I  used  to 
ask.  Believe  me  always,  my  dear  Bob,  most  truly  yours. 

16.— To  Mr.  John.  Jeffrey. 

Glasgow,  12th  November,  1797. 

My  dear  Citizen — I  received  your  last  letter  two  or  three 
days  ago,  and  should  have  been  very  angry,  I  believe,  not- 
withstanding your  compliments  and  contrition,  for  not 
receiving  it  sooner,  had  I  not  heard  a  great  deal  about  you, 
a  week  before  from  your  friend  Bobby  Sinclair.  I  am 
really  growing  a  very  bad  correspondent  myself,  and  am 
so  much  humiliated  at  the  perception  of  this  degeneracy, 


82  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

that  I  have  not  the  heart  to  blame  any  other  body  for  re- 
sembling me,  &c. 

I  took  a  fit  of  impatience  about  three  days  ago  ;  and, 
considering  that  in  less  than  a  week  I  would  be  chained  up 
for  the  whole  winter,  I  left  all  iny  papers  in  the  middle, 
and  scampered  away  to  Herbertshire,  from  which  I  came 
here  yesterday  with  my  friend  Bob,  who  has  changed  his 
resolution  once  more,  and  has  determined  to  attend  Millar's 
lectures  in  this  place  through  the  winter.  He  has  evidently 
a  hankering  after  the  Scotch  bar,  though  he  says  he  has 
decided  upon  nothing,  and  merely  attends  this  course  as  the 
most  improving  that  offers  itself  while  he  is  uncertain.  I 
return  again  to  Edinburgh  to-morrow,  and  begin  the  labours 
of  the  session  on  the  day  following. 

I  am  glad  you  talk  so  confidently  about  coming  here  in 
the  course  of  the  winter.  You  will  find  us  all,  I  think,  in 
the  same  situation  you  left  us  in,  with  the  exception  of 
some  capital  improvements  in  my  person  and  dispositions, 
which  it  would  be  of  more  importance  for  you  to  see  and 
imitate,  than  to  run  round  all  Europe  in  the  way  you  have 
been  doing.  One  singular  grace  I  flatter  myself  I  have 
improved  very  much  since  I  saw  you,  and  that  is  political 
moderation.  You  talk  to  me  about  my  democracy.  I  am 
the  most  moderate  of  all  people.  I  have  no  hopes  scarcely 
to  be  disappointed  in,  and  put  no  confidence  in  any  party 
or  any  professions.  I  shall  talk  to  you  like  an  oracle  oil 
these  subjects,  and  make  your  hair  stand  on  end  with 
astonishment  at  the  liberality  and  wisdom  of  a  man  who 
has  never  been  out  of  Scotland.  But  I  write  very  tediously 
upon  them ;  at  least,  I  weary  myself  even  before  I  have 
begun.  My  hands  are  quite  frozen,  and  I  have  a  great 
number  of  things  to  do  before  dinner  yet.  I  am  always, 
dear  Cit.,  very  affectionately  yours. 


TO    HIS    BROTHER.  33 

17.—  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  21st  November,  1797. 
My  dear  Citizen — 

I  am  at  this  moment  exceedingly  busy,  and  have  no 
leisure  even  to  send  you  that  scold,  which  does  not  come  so 
readily  to  me  as  it  once  did.  I  am  not  only  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  session,  when  (in  consequence  of  the  vis  inertice 
which  I  have  been  cherishing  in  the  vacation)  it  always  re- 
quires a  great  deal  more  labour  to  do  less  work  ;  but  as  the 
President  has  been  very  sick  for  these  two  days,  and  I  am 
determined  to  make  a  hard  push  for  the  chair,  in  case  of  a 
vacancy,  you  will  easily  understand  that  I  am  very  much  en- 
gaged with  my  canvass,  and  have  very  little  time  to  spare 
from  the  fatigue  of  bribing,  and  promising,  and  corrupting. 
Indeed  I  could  not  have  offered  to  write  to  you  at  all  at 
this  busy  time,  if  I  could  have  afforded  to  go  on  without 
you ;  but  my  funds  are  almost  exhausted,  and  I  am  under 
the  necessity  of  applying  to  you  for  a  remittance,  &c. 

Tell  me  some  moje  of  your  way  of  life,  and  the  emi- 
grants, with  whom  you  are  corrupting.  The  greater  part 
of  them  are  fools,  I  fancy  ;  not  exactly  for  leaving  France, 
but  for  having  been  bred  in  it  like  noblemen  and  courtiers. 
The  women,  I  suppose,  are  the  best.  What  is  their  charac- 
ter in  poverty  and  humiliation  ?  I  really  pity  these  people. 
But  so  much  of  their  unhappiness  arises  from  the  loss  of 
what  was  truly  of  no  value,  and  it  would  take  so  much,  not 
merely  of  money,  but  of  liberty  and  common  sense,  to  sa- 
tisfy them  entirely,  that  it  is  wrong  even  to  wish  for  it,  and 
better,  upon  the  whole,  to  let  these  things  remain  with  their 
present  possessors.  I  am  not  much  afraid  of  your  growing 
too  much  of  an  aristocrat.  There  never  will  be  another 
race  of  these  fanatics.  The  thing  (in  its  madness  and  abuse) 
is  quite  at  an  end.  Do  not  write  me  any  more  politics, 
unless  it  be  anecdotes  or  news. — Very  affectionately  yours. 


84  LIFE   OF   LORI)   JEFFREY. 

18.—  To  Mr.  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  6th  August,  1798. 

Well,  I  owe  you  a  letter,  I  suppose,  Bobby.  And 
•what  then  ?  That  may  be  many  an  honest  man's  case  as 
well  as  mine ;  and  there  may  be  apologies,  I  suppose,  and 
whys  and  wherefores,  of  which  you  know  nothing,  nor  I 
neither.  I  will  make  you  no  apology.  I  have  forgiven 
you  ten  letters  in  my  time,  and  wrote  on  without  calcu- 
lating the  amount  of  my  debt,  &c.  Why  do  I  write  you 
this,  Bobby  ?  or  why,  in  my  present  humour,  do  I  write 
you  at  all  ?  Principally,  I  believe,  to  tell  you  that  I  ex- 
pect very  soon  to  see  you,  and  to  tell  you  that  there  is  no 
person  whom  I  think  of  seeing  with  greater  pleasure,  or 
toward  whom  it  would  be  more  unjust  to  suspect  me  of 
forgetfulness  or  unkindness.  I  have  said  very  soon,  but  I 
do  not  mean  immediately — two  lines  will  tell  you  the 
whole.  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  and  I  (your  brother  John  will 
join  us,  I  believe)  propose  to  set  out  about  the  end  of  this 
month,  and  to  travel  in  your  track  (only  reversedly) 
through  Cumberland  and  Wales,  till  we  fall  in  with  you  at 
Oxford,  or  somewhere  else,  on  our  way  to  London.  What, 
my  dear  Bobby,  are  we  turning  into  ?  I  grow,  it  appears 
to  myself,  dismally  stupid  and  inactive.  I  lose  all  my 
originalities,  and  ecstasies,  and  romance,  and  am  far  ad- 
vanced already  upon  that  dirty  highway  called  the  way  of 
the  world.  I  have  a  kind  of  unmeaning  gayety  that  is 
fatiguing  and  unsatisfactory,  even  to  myself;  and  though, 
in  the  brilliancy  of  this  sarcastic  humour,  I  can  ridicule 
my  former  dispositions  with  admirable  success,  yet  I  regret 
the  loss  of  them  much  more  feelingly,  and  really  begin  to 
suspect  that  the  reason  and  gross  common  sense  by  which 
I  now  profess  to  estimate  every  thing,  is  just  as  much  a 
vanity  and  delusion  as  any  of  the  fantasies  it  judges  of. 
This  at  least  I  am  sure  of,  that  these  poetic  visions  bestowed 
a  much  purer  and  more  tranquil  happiness  than  can  be 


TO    HIS    BROTHER.  35 

found  in  any  of  the  tumultuous  and  pedantic  triumphs  that 
seem  now  within  my  reach ;  and  that  I  was  more  amiable, 
and  quite  as  respectable,  before  this  change  took  place  in 
my  character.  I  shall  never  arrJve  at  any  eminence  either 
in  this  new  character;  and  have  glimpses  and  retrospective 
snatches  of  my  former  self,  so  frequent  and  so  lively,  that 
I  shall  never  be  wholly  estranged  from  it,  nor  more  than 
half  the  thing  I  seem  to  be  driving  at.  Within  these  few 
days  I  have  been  more  perfectly  restored  to  my  poesies 
and  sentimentalities  than  I  had  been  for  many  months 
before.  I  walk  out  every  day  alone,  and  as  I  wander  by 
the  sunny  sea,  or  over  the  green  and  solitary  rocks  of 
Arthur's  Seat,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  escaped  from  the  scenes 
of  impertinence  on  which  I  had  been  compelled  to  act, 
and  recollect,  with  some  degree  of  my  old  enthusiasm,  the 
wild  walks  and  eager  conversation  we  used  to  take  together 
at  Herbertshire  about  four  years  ago.  I  am  still  capable, 
I  feel,  of  going  back  to  these  feelings,  and  would  seek  my 
happiness,  I  think,  in  their  indulgence,  if  my  circumstances 
would  let  me.  As  it  is  I  believe  I  shall  go  on  sophisti- 
cating and  perverting  myself  till  I  become  absolutely  good 
for  nothing,  &c. — Truly  and  affectionately  yours. 

19.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  4th  March,  1799. 

My  dear  John — I  wrote  you  a  dull  letter  of  news  yester- 
day, for  the  packet,  and  have  tasked  myself  to  make  a 
kind  of  duplicate  of  it,  to  go  by  some  ship  or  other  from 
London,  &c. 

My  first  article  of  intelligence  relates  to  our  poor 
grandmother's  death.  She  died  on  the  22d  of  last  month ; 
and  as  literally  and  truly  of  old  age,  I  believe,  as  any  of 
the  old  patriarchs  did.  She  had  been  wasting  away,  by 
sensible  degrees,  for  several  months,  and  died  at  last  with- 
out pain  or  struggle.  It  was  an  event  so  long  expected 
that  it  occasioned  little  emotion  to  anybody.  Miss  Crockett, 


36  LIFE   OF   LORD 

who  was  naturally  most  affected  by  it,  very  soon  recovered 
her  ordinary  spirits  and  tranquillity.  I  declare  to  you,  I 
do  not  know  anybody  so  worthy  of  admiration  and  esteem 
as  this  cousin  of  ours.  She  has  sacrificed,  not  only  her 
youth  and  her  comfort,  to  the  discharge  of  an  uninteresting 
duty,  but  has  voluntarily  given  up  the  improvement  of  her 
manners  and  her  understanding  for  the  sake  of  it.  Yet 
it  requires  reflection  to  find  out  all  the  merit;  and  there 
was  something  so  unostentatious,  and  unaffected,  in  the 
whole  course  of  her  attention,  that  it  never  struck  us  as 
a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  &c. 

Mary  is  domesticating  with  her  husband,  her  child,  and 
her  cat.  Indeed,  she  scarcely  ever  stirs  from  the  fireside, 
and  having  got  another  child  to  bring  into  existence  by 
and  by,  is  so  full  of  anxieties  and  apprehensions,  that  I 
believe  she  scarcely  thinks  of  any  thing  that  is  not  within 
her  own  gates.  Examples  of  this  kind  really  give  me  a 
horror  of  matrimony ;  at  least,  they  persuade  me  more  and 
more  of  the  necessity  there  is  for  completing  one's  stores 
of  information,  and  sources  of  reflection  and  entertainment, 
before  they  enter  into  it.  There  is  no  possibility  of  im- 
provement afterward;  that  is,  if  one  is  really  to  live  a 
matrimonial  life. 

Now,  for  myself  and  my  system  of  nerves;  I  believe 
they  are  much  better.  I  thank  you,  than  they  were  when 
you  saw  me  in  London.  I  have  not  given  them  fair  play 
either,  since  my  return  to  this  country,  and  have  not  had 
the  virtue  to  fulfil  every  part  of  the  moral  regimen  which 
my  doctors  concurred  in  recommending  to  me.  However, 
as  I  have  survived  the  winter,  I  make  no  question  of  get- 
ting quite  well  before  midsummer,  and  have  no  fear  of 
ever  falling  into  the  same  state  again.  So  much  for  goods 
of  the  body.  As  to  the  goods  of  fortune,  I  can  say  but 
little  for  myself.  I  have  got  no  legacies,  and  discovered 
no  treasure,  since  you  went  away ;  and  for  the  law  and  its 
honours  and  emoluments,  I  do  not  seem  to  be  any  nearer 


TO    GEORGE   JOSEPH   BELL.  37 

them  than  I  was  the  first  year  I  called  myself  a  practi- 
tioner. One  is  quite  buried  here,  among  a  great  crowd 
of  men  of  decent  abilities  and  moderate  expectation,  and 
it  is  almost  necessary  that  some  great  man,  or  some  great 
accident,  should  pull  you  out  of  it,  before  you  can  come 
into  any  kind  of  desirable  notice.  Geo.  Bell,  honest  man, 
is  writing  a  great  book,  upon  which  he  means  to  raise 
himself  (as  a  pedestal)  above  the  heads  of  all  his  contem- 
poraries. I  have  not  patience  for  that;  at  least,  I  should 
like  to  see  how  the  experiment  answers  before  I  think  of 
repeating  it.  John  Wylde*  dashed  his  brains  out,  by  a 
fall  from  an  elevation  of  that  kind,  &c. 

I  want  to  hear,  too,  whether  you  intend  to  marry  im- 
mediately, or  take  another  survey  of  our  European  beau- 
ties before  you  attach  yourself  irrevocably.  For  my 
part,  I  think  I  should  marry  in  the  course  of  this  cen- 
tury, if  I  had  only  money  enough  to  subsist  upon.  For 
the  woman,  I  have  no  doubt  I  should  find  one  to  my  mind 
in  a  fortnight ;  and,  indeed,  I  know  more  than  half  a 
dozen  as  it  is,  with  whom,  upon  a  shorter  notice,  I  am 
positive,  I  could  become  as  much  in  love  as  it  is  at  all 
necessary  for  an  affair  of  that  nature.* 

I  begin  to  despair  now  of  the  fortunes  of  Europe,  and 
scarcely  know  what  to  advise  the  princes  and  potentates 
to  do  for  themselves.  Something,  however,  must  be  done 
for  them  speedily,  and  a  hint  from  you  would,  I  doubt 
not,  be  of  the  greatest  service  to  them,  &c. — Most  affec- 
tionately yours. 

20.— To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq. 

Montrose,  26th  August,  1799 

Dear  Bell — Here  we  are,  only  at  Montrose  yet,  you 
see ;  and  it  is  only  by  wondrous  exertions  that  we  have 

*  "John  Wylde,  afterward  Professor  of  Civil  Law,  and  who  has  now, 
alas!  survived  his  own  fertile  and  richly-endowed  mind." — MACKINTOSH. 
VOL.  II.— 4 


38  LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

got  so  far.  We  stopped  for  two  days  at  Perth,  hoping 
for  places  in  the  mail,  and  then  set  forward  on  foot  in 
despair.  We  have  trudged  it  now  for  fifty  miles,  and 
came  here  this  morning  very  weary,  sweaty,  and  filthy. 
Our  baggage,  which  was  to  have  left  Perth  the  same  day 
that  we  did,  has  not  yet  made  its  appearance,  and  we 
have  received  the  comfortable  information  that  it  is  often 
a  week  before  there  is  room  in  the  mail  to  bring  such  a 
parcel  forward.  In  this  forlorn  situation  we  have  done 
what  we  could.  We  have  made  clean  the  outside  of  the 
platter,  shaved  and  washed  our  faces,  turned  our  neck- 
cloths, brushed  our  pantaloons,  and  anointed  our  hair  with 
honey  water ;  and  so  we  have  been  perambulating  the 
city,  and  have  accepted  an  invitation  from  Mr.  William 
Baillie,  writer  in  Edinburgh,  to  whom  John  Taylor  had 
fortunately  given  us  a  letter.  Is  this  account  enough  of 
our  proceedings,  do  you  think  ?  or  must  I  describe  Scone 
and  Glammis  Castle  to  you,  and  give  you  a  picture  of 
Forfar,  Brechin,  and  the  Grampians  ?  You  shall  have 
all  that  when  I  come  home ;  for  down  goes  every  thing 
into  my  journal ;  though,  to  confess  the  truth,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  write  Bob's  ever  since  we  left  Perth,  having 
packed  up  my  own  by  mistake  in  my  trunk. 

The  weather  has  been  delightful  ever  since  we  set  out, 
(a-  special  providence  no  doubt,)  and  we  have  been  quite 
well,  (all  except  my  nose,  which  is  still  in  a  perilous  way, 
and  threatens  a  new  eruption  very  soon  again,)  and  in  ex- 
cellent humour.  Bob  lugs  along  with  him,  in  his  bosom, 
and  his  breeches,  and  one  way  or  another?  a  volume  of 
Petrarch,  a  Northern  Tour,  and  a  volume  of  Cicero;  so 
we  have  occupation  enough  when  we  do  not  choose  to 
talk,  and  have  succeeded  wonderfully  in  making  sonnets 
and  sapphics  upon  all  the  oddities  we  have  met  with. 
Mpntrose  is  a  good,  gay-looking  place.  It  was  furiously 
gay  indeed  yesterday,  being  the  last  day  of  the  races,  and 
<t  mercy  it  was  we  did  not  come,  weary  and  way-worn,  (as 


TO   GEORGE   JOSEPH    BELL.  39 

we  once  intended,)  into  it  in  the  evening,  for  there  was 
not  a  corner  into  which  they  could  have  stowed  us.  We 
shall  be  in  Aberdeen  to-morrow,  I  think,  or  Monday  at 
the  latest,  and  shall  go  out  of  it,  if  possible,  on  Thursday. 
One  day's  races,  (and  they  begin  upon  Wednesday)  being, 
I  take  it,  quite  enough  for  us.  I  am  not  sure  if  we  shall 
diverge  at  all  to  Peterhead,  our  money  and  our  time  both 
running  away  faster  than  we  expected.  At  Fort  George 
we  shall  sorn  upon  Morehead,*  and  borrow  money  from 
him  too,  if  very  much  exhausted. 

I  got  your  letter  the  morning  before  I  left  Edinburgh ; 
it  prevented  me  from  calling  upon  you.  Your  friend 
Keayf  does  not  live  within  twelve  miles  from  Perth,  so 
we  have  not  been  near  him.  It  is  very  near  Dunkeld, 
however,  through  which  we  mean  to  return,  and  then  your 
recommendation  (if  it  have  not  fallen  under  the  negative 
prescription)  may  be  of  some  use  to  us.  Is  not  Snego,  or 
some  such  word,  the  name  of  his  estate  ?  You  have 
given  me  but  a  very  loose  direction  to  him.  You  must 
write  to  me  to  Aberdeen,  (which  you  may  do  well  enough 
by  Tuesday's  post,)  and  let  me  know  how  Edinburgh  has 
torne  my  departure.  Call  for  my  sister,  too,  if  you  be 
idle  enough,  and  inform  her  of  my  survivance.  I  shall 
write  to  her  to-morrow  from  whatsoever  place  I  may  be 
in.  Tell  me,  too,  what  you  are  doing  yourself,  and  how 
the  book  comes  on.  You  have  a  little  propensity  to  de- 
spondency and  impatience,  in  which  my  philosophy  cannot 
indulge  you.  A  pretty  fellow  to  be  discontented,  to  be 
sure !  Would  you  more  than  live  ?  But  you  must  not 
marry,  forsooth !  So  much  the  better,  for  a  while  yet. 
In  short,  a- man  should  always  hope  and  project  for  the 
future ;  and  then,  you  know,  when  he  does  die,  it  is  only 
want  of  time  that  prevented  his  prosperity.  If  Kinnaird 


*  John  Morehead,  a  militia  officer. 

f  The  father  of  Jeffrey's  future  friend,  James  Keay,  Esq.,  of  Snaigo. 


40  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

had  died  of  this  fever,  what  advantage  would  he  have  had 
over  me  during  his  life  ?  and  if  I  die  in  a  year  or  two, 
what  disadvantage  shall  I  have  sustained  from  my  want 
of  fortune  and  provision  for  fifty  years,  which  will  either 
provide  for  themselves  or  never  exist  for  me?  This  is 
Montrose  formality,  I  fancy;  for  I  feel  as  if  it  were  in- 
spired into  me  against  my  will.  At  any  rate,  I  am  deter- 
mined not  to  be  answerable  for  it,  and  hope  I  shall  hear 
no  more  of  it.  Farewell,  my  dear  Bell,  and  believe  that 
I  think  of  you  always  with  the  respect  and  affection  you 
deserve.  That  is  an  equivoque,  I  believe,  though  I  think 
not,  as  there  is  nothing  equivocal  in  the  distinction  with 
which  you  have  always  treated  me.  I  mean  to  meditate 
a  great  work  during  the  leisure  of  this  journey ;  but  should 
like  to  have  a  hint  or  suggestion  or  two  to  set  me  going. 
I  do  not  think  I  should  ever  have  had  the  grace  to  be 
ashamed  of  my  indolence,  of  my  own  accord ;  but  my 
friends  have  wellnigh  persuaded  me  into  a  state  of  horri- 
ble remorse,  and  now  I  can  neither  be  busy  nor  idle  with 
any  comfort.  A  very  delectable  dilemma,  out  of  which 
you  must  help  me.  I  do  not  care  very  much  at  which 
side. — Believe  me,  dear  Bell,  very  sincerely  yours. 

Saturday. — P.  S.  If  you  are  lazy,  or  busy,  and  do  not 
choose  to  write  to  Aberdeen,  at  the  post-office,  do  at  the 
post-office,  Inverness,  where  I  shall  be  in  ten  days. 

21.— To  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  20th  September,  1799. 

My  dear  Bobby — I  am  happy  to  tell  you  that  I  found 
Mamie*  almost  entirely  recovered  from  her  late  illness, 
and  in  every  respect  a  great  deal  better  than  I  had  expect- 
ed. This  is  the  first  chapter,  and  now  I  come  to  myself; 
and  a  whole  chapter  of  accidents  I  have  to  indite  upon  that 
subject,  though  I  am  not  sure  if  I  shall  have  the  patience 

*  His  sister  Mary. 


TO    ROBERT   MOREHEAD.  41 

to  present  you  with  the  whole  of  it.  I  was  roused  care- 
fully half  an  hour  before  four  yesterday  morning,  and 
passed  two  delightful  hours  in  the  kitchen  waiting  for  the 
mail.  There  was  an  enormous  fire,  and  a  whole  houseful 
of  smoke.  The  waiter  was  snoring  with  great  vehemency 
upon  one  of  the  dressers,  and  the  d.eep  regular  intonation 
had  a  very  solemn  effect,  I  can  assure  you,  in  the  obscuri- 
ty of  that  Tartarean  region,  and  the  melancholy  silence  of 
the  morning.  An  innumerable  number  of  rats  were  trot- 
ting and  gibbering  in  one  end  of  the  place,  and  the  rain 
clattered  freshly  on  the  windows.  The  dawn  heavily  in 
clouds  brought  on  the  day,  but  not,  alasj  the  mail ;  and  it 
was  long  past  five  when  the  guard  came  galloping  into  the 
yard,  upon  a  smoking  horse  with  all  the  wet  bags  lumber- 
ing beside  him,  (like  Scylla's  water  dogs,)  roaring  out  that 
the  coach  was  broken  down  somewhere  near  Dundee,  and 
commanding  another  steed  to  be  got  ready  for  his  trans- 
portation. The  noise  he  made  brought  out  the  other  two 
sleepy  wretches  that  had  been  waiting  like  myself  for 
places,  and  we  at  length  persuaded  the  heroic  champion  to 
order  a  post-chaise  instead  of  a  horse ;  into  which  we 
crammed  ourselves  all  four  with  a  whole  mountain  of 
leather  bags,  that  clung  about  our  legs  like  the  entrails  of 
a  fat  cow,  all  the  rest  of  the  journey.  At  Kinross,  as  the 
morning  was  very  fine,  we  prevailed  with  the  guard  to  go 
on  the  outside  to  dry  himself,  and  got  on  to  the  ferry  about 
eleven,  after  encountering  various  perils  and  vexations,  in 
the  loss  of  horse-shoes  and  wheel  pins,  and  in  a  great  gap 
in  the  road,  over  which  we  had  to  lead  the  horses  and  haul 
the  carriage  separately.  At  this  place  we  supplicated  our 
agitator  for  leave  to  eat  a  little  breakfast ;  but  he  would 
not  stop  an  instant,  and  we  were  obliged  to  snatch  up  a 
roll  or  two  apiece  to  gnaw  the  dry  crusts  during  our  pas- 
sage to  keep  soul  and  body  together.  We  got  in  soon  after 
one,  and  I  have  spent  my  time  in  eating,  drinking,  sleep- 
ing, and  other  recreations,  down  to  the  present  hour.  This 


42  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

is  the  conclusion  of  my  journal  you  see.  Yours  is  not  in 
such  forwardness.  But  I  hope  the  part  of  it  that  has 
been  performed  out  x)f  my  guidance  has  been  prosperous 
and  agreeable.  I  rather  think  my  return  must  have  been 
a  riddance  to  you,  for  I  was  both  dull  and  ill-tempered  du- 
ring the  last  days  of  our  travelling,  &c. 

And  now  farewell  to  you,  my  trusty  travelling  compa- 
nion. We  shall  make  another  trip  together  again,  I  hope, 
very  soon ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  try  to  make  as  few  trips 
as  possible  asunder.  I  am  persuaded  that  they  are  good 
things  both  for  the  mind  and  the  body,  and  are  very 
amusing,  both  past,  present,  and  future ;  -which  is  more 
than  you  can  say  of  any  other  kind  of  gratification. 

Remember  me  very  kindly  to  Mrs.  Morehead,  and  her 
children  twain,  Mrs.  B.  and  all  the  other  members  of  that 
illustrious  family,  to  all  my  friends  and  acquaintances,  and 
lastly,  to  the  whole  human  race,  rich  and  poor,  friends  and 
foes.  Amen. — I  am,  dear  Bob,  always  most  affectionately 
yours. 

22.— To  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  6th  July,  1800. 

My  dear  Bob — I  am  au  de'sespoir  at  your  silence.  I 
beg  you  would  give  me  some  satisfaction,  &c. 

I  have  been  idle  and  rather  dissipated  all  this  summer. 
Of  late  I  have  had  fits  of  discontent  and  self-condemnation 
pretty  severely,  but  I  doubt  if  this  will  produce  any  thing 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  The  thing,  however,  will  certain- 
ly draw  to  a  crisis  in  a  year  or  two.  My  ambition  and  my 
prudence  and  indolence  will  have  a  pitched  battle,  and  I 
shall  either  devote  myself  to  ambition  and  toil,  or  lay  my- 
self quietly  down  in  obscurity  and  mediocrity  of  attainment. 
I  am  not  sure  which  of  these  will  promote  my  happiness 
the  most.  I  shall  regret  what  I  have  forfeited,  be  my  de- 
cision what  it  may.  The  unaspiring  life,  I  believe,  has  the 
least  positive  wretchedness.  I  have  often  thought  of  going 


TO    ROBERT   MOREHEAD.  43 

to  India,  but  I  do  not  know  for  -what  station  I  should  be 
qualified,  or  could  qualify  myself,  and  I  have  almost  as 
little  talent  for  solicitation  as  you  have. 

I  have  been  reading  Malcolm  Laing's  new  Scotch  his- 
tory. It  is  of  a  miserable  period,  and  not  the  author's 
fault  that  it  contains  little  but  the  disgusting  and  con- 
temptible quajrels  of  prelates  and  presbyteries,  and  the 
mean  tyrannies  of  privy  councils  and  commissions.  It  is 
written  with  some  spirit,  and  in  a  style  more  precise  and 
forcible,  than  elegant  or  correct.  There  is  an  elaborate 
dissertation  against  your  friend  Ossian,  which  will  not  ap- 
pear so  satisfactory  to  the  reader  as  it  seems  to  have 
done  to  the  author.  However,  my  faith  (or  infidelity 
rather)  has  been  long  inclining  to  that  side.  Burns's 
complete  Works  are  also  come  out ;  the  life  I  have  not 
read.  It  is,  I  believe,  by  Currie  and  Roscoe.  Some  of 
the  songs  are  enchantingly  beautiful,  and  affect  one  more 
than  any  other  species  of  poetry  whatsoever.  The  faci- 
lity and  rapidity  with  which  he  appears  to  have  composed 
them  amaze  me.  Indeed,  his  whole  correspondence  (al- 
though infected  now  and  then  with  a  silly  affectation  of 
sentiment,  and  some  commonplaces  of  adulation)  gives 
me  a  higher  opinion  both  of  his  refinement  and  real  mo- 
desty of  character  than  any  thing  he  had  formerly  pub- 
lished. 

I  am  become  a  zealous  chemist,  and  could  make  experi- 
ments, if  I  could  afford  it,  and  was  not  afraid  of  my  eyes. 
I  shall  join  a  society  in  winter  that  conducts  these  things 
in  a  very  respectable  style.  I  am  afraid  it  will  swallow 
up  our  academy,  for  which  I  am  sorry.  It  was  the  most 
select  and  the  least  burdensome  thing  of  the  kind  I  was 
ever  concerned  with.  But  amiable  licentiousness  and  want 
of  discipline  have  extinguished  it,  or  nearly. — Believe  me 
always,  dear  Bob,  most  affectionately  yours. 


44  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

23.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  1st  October,  1800. 

My  dear  John — I  am  vexed  to  think  that  the  packet 
for  this  month  will  be  gone  before  this  reach  it ;  but  I 
only  returned  to  town  last  night,  and,  in  the  hurry  of  tra- 
velling, forgot  that  the  irrevocable  day  was  going  by,  &c. 

It  is  not  a  very  wise  thing,  I  believe,  to  talk  to  a  man 
of  his  own  situation,  or  to  amuse  him  with  conjectures 
about  it,  founded  on  his  own  information  three  months 
before.  You  will  learn  more,  I  believe,  from  what  I  may 
tell  you  of  myself.  First,  then,  we  are  all  well.  Secondly, 
Marion  was  married  in  June  last,  (which  I  have  now  an- 
nounced to  you  four  several  times.)  Thirdly,  Mary  has 
another  daughter.  Fourthly,  so  has  Mrs.  Murray;  that 
is  to  say,  she  has  a  child,  but  it  is  a  son,  and  its  name  is 
Thomas.  She  was  almost  dead  in  the  bringing  forth  of  it, 
but  is  now  so  well  as  to  have  been  returning  thanks  in 
church,  and  to  have  eaten  up  all  the  christening-cake,  to 
my  great  disappointment.  Fifthly,  I  am  not  married,  but 
desperately  in  love,  and  they  say  engaged ;  but  that  you 
need  not  believe.  Sixthly,  I  have  been  making  a  tour  in 
the  north,  and  have  spent  all  my  money.  I  cannot  count 
any  further,  and  have  not  much  more  to  inform  you  of. 
Our  tour  this  year  was  not  very  extensive ;  but  it  was  very 
agreeable.  I  went  with  my  old  travelling  companion  Bob 
Morehead,  and  picked  up  my  friends  Homer  and  Murray 
on  the  way.  We  set  out  by  going  to  the  top  of  Benlo- 
inond,  and  to  the  bottom  of  the  Loch ;  and  then  passed 
along  Loch  Katterine  and  Loch  Vanacher  and  Loch  Lub- 
n,aig,  and  twenty  other  lochs,  I  believe,  with  names  as 
unutterable,  and  borders  as  savage,  as  any  you  have  in 
America.  We  came  down  the  Tay  to  Dundee,  and  then  I 
scrambled  over  the  sand-hills  to  St.  Andrews,  where  I 
have  been  purifying  my  mind  and  body  by  bathing  and 
the  society  of  innocent  girls,  for  this  last  fortnight.  You 


TO   HIS   BROTHER.  45 

are  not  acquainted,  I  believe,  with  our  cousins,  the  Wil- 
sons of  that  ancient  city.  The  most  learned  and  corpu- 
lent doctor,  I  believe,  you  have  seen.  He  has  three 
daughters,  in  whom  I  delighted  extremely.  The  place  is 
swarming  with  beauties  indeed ;  and  what  with  the  idle- 
ness and  the  innocence  of  my  occupations  there,  I  do  not 
think  that  a  more  enchanting  fortnight  has  been  passed 
by  man  since  the  fall,  &c. 

I  have  been  so  long  exhorted  by  all  my  friends  to  write 
a  book,  that  I  have  a  great  notion  that  I  shall  attempt 
something  of  that  kind  in  the  .course  of  the  winter.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  fix  upon  any  subject  yet  though ; 
and  I  am  afraid  a  man  is  not  likely  to,  make  a  good  figure 
who  writes,  not  because  he  has  something  to  say,  but  who 
casts  about  for  something  to  say  because  he  has  determined 
to  write.  A  law  book  would,  probably,  be  of  the  greatest 
service  to  me ;  but  I  have  neither  science  nor  patience 
enough,  I  suspect,  to  acquire  it. — Believe  me  always,  my 
dear  John,  very  affectionately  yours. 

24.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  29th  November,  1800. 

My  dear  John — I  have,  at  last,  a  letter  of  yours  to  ac- 
knowledge, &c. 

The  first  weeks  of  the  session  have  passed  over  very 
heavily.  I  spent  the  vacation,  though,  very  delightfully ; 
and  this  is  one  reason,  I  daresay,  for  the  discontent  I 
have  felt  since.  However,  I  am,  upon  the  whole,  a  happy 
animal,  and  have  more  reason  to  be  happy  than  I  have  the 
conscience  to  confess.  It  is  the  want  of  money  and  the 
want  of  any  security  for  the  future,  that  plagues  me  the 
most.  I  am  beginning  almost  to  grow  old  now.  It  is 
time,  at  least,  that  I  should  bid  farewell  to  the  mere  levi- 
ties and  carelessness  of  youth,  and  enter  myself,  somehow 
or  other,  upon  the  valued  file  of  men.  I  have  strong  pro- 
pensities to  matrimony,  too,  and  temptations  that  I  scarcely 


46  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

know  how  to  resist.  Yet  it  ia  a  sad  thing  to  take  an 
amiable  girl  to  starve  her,  or  to  sink  below  that  level  to 
which  one  has  been  accustomed,  and  to  the  manners  to 
which  all  one's  relishes  have  been  formed.  You  see  how 
full  of  reflection  I  have  become.  I  do,  indeed,  feel  a  cer- 
tain change  within  me,  and  look  upo'n  the  world  and  my 
concern  with  it  in  a  very  new  light,  within  these  last  six 
months.  You  need  not  trouble  yourself,  however,  to  sym- 
pathize very  painfully  with  my  anxieties.  I  am,  on  the 
whole,  extremely  happy,  and  live  in  a  state  of  hope  that 
is  nearly  as  good  as  a  state  of  enjoyment,  &c. 

Bob  Morehead  has  been  in  Scotland  all  this  summer,  but 
returns,  for  the  last  time,  to  Oxford,  soon  after  Christmas. 
He  still  keeps  terms  in  the  Temple,  but  neither  reads  nor 
thinks  of  law.  I  do  not  imagine  that  he  will  take  the 
trouble  to  pass,  and  am  sure  he  will  never  practise.  He 
has  been  very  poetical  of  late,  and  really  has  a  talent  and 
a  taste  that  way  that  might  bring  him  into  notice  ;  but  he 
is  as  indolent  as  either  you  or  me,  and  wants  confidence 
more  than  either.  He  will  not  starve,  however,  though  he 
should  be  idle.  He  has  rather  a  turn  for  marriage,  and  is 
in  the  mean  time  one  of  the  happiest  persons  I  know,  &c. 

Your  United  States,  I  am  afraid,  will  not  deserve  that 
title  long ;  and  that  wonderful  America,  which  all  the  dis- 
contented patriots  of  Europe  have  been  holding  out  to  our 
envy  and  admiration,  will  fall  a  victim,  I  think,  to  the  con- 
stitutional malady  of  republics.  What  with  your  yellow 
fever  and  your  party  violence,  I  cannot  think  your  situa- 
tion very  enviable.  Jefferson,  however,  I  take  to  be  a 
very  able  man,  and  I  imagine  the  best  thing  that  could 
happen  to  you  would  be  his  election.  The  true  way  to 
abate  political  violence  is  to  give  it  power.  It  is  opposi- 
tion and  disappointment  that  exasperates  to  all  dangerous 
excesses  ;  and  (except  in  the  single  case  of  a  popular  revo- 
lution, and  a  mob  that  is  not  under  the  control  of  any 
'eaders)  the  most  outrageous  patriot  will  generally  become 

' 


TO   HIS    BROTHER.  47 

practicable  and  moderate  when  he  is  himself  intrusted 
with  the  government  of  the  country.  I  beg  you  to  write 
to  me  very  soon. — Believe  me,  my  dear  John,  most  affec- 
tionately yours. 

25.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  3d  January,  1801. 

My  dear  John — It  is  only  two  or  three  days  since  I  re- 
ceived your  letter  of  the  15th  November.  I  am  quite  de- 
lighted to  find  that  you  are  not  dead,  and  that  there  is 
still  a  possibility  of  our  meeting  again  in  this  world.  Your 
congratulations  upon  Mainie's  marriage  appear  to  me  as 
much  out  of  date,  as  my  wishing  you  a  good  new-year 
would  do  when  you  receive  this  letter.  It  is  an  event  now 
of  obscure  antiquity  with  us,  and  no  more  thought  of  than 
the  day  of  their  death.  One  part  of  your  letter,  however,  is 
still  in  good  season — that,  I  mean,  which  relates  to  the  dul- 
ness  and  stupidity  of  our  house  since  that  separation,  &c. 

I  feel  this  the  more,  because  when  I  am  from  home  I 
live  in  a  very  good  society,  and  find  the  contrast  the 
greater.  I  make  but  little  progress — I  believe  I  may  say 
none  at  all — at  the  bar ;  but  my  reputation,  I  think,  is  in- 
creasing, and  may  produce  something  in  time,  &c. 

To  have  gone  out  to  practise  law  in  India,  would 
have  suited  my  inclination  and  my  talents,  I  believe,  ex- 
tremely well ;  but  the  courts  there  are  only  open  to  those 
who  have  been  called  to  the  bar  in  England  ;  and  it  would 
take  me  four  or  five  years'  study,  or  attendance  at  least,  to 
obtain  that  qualification.  There  is  the  same  objection  to 
my  exchanging  the  Scotch  bar  for  the  English.  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  I  should  be  much  more  suc- 
cessful at  the  latter ;  but  it  is  now  too  late,  I  am  afraid, 
to  think  of  it.  I  have  talked  occasionally  with  some  West 
India  and  Demerara  men,  who  give  me  a  tempting  idea  of 
the  facility  with  which  money  may  be  made  in  trade  in 
these  countries.  I  know  nothing  about  trade,  to  be  sure, 


48  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

but  they  say  that  is  of  no  consequence,  and  that  a  clever 
man  cannot  fail  of  success.  I  rather  conceive  myself,  that 
all  the  craft  of  a  merchant  might  be  learned  in  the  course 
of  a  year,  so  as  to  enable  a  man  to  bring  all  the  mind  he 
had  to  bear  in  that  direction.  I  have  thought  too,  of  en- 
gaging myself  in  the  study  of  Oriental  literature,  and 
indking  myself  considerable  in  that  way,  and  of  fifty  dif- 
ferent schemes  of  literary  eminence  at  home. 

Within  this  little  while,  however,  I  will  confess  to  you, 
these  ambitious  fancies  have  lost  a  good  deal  of  their 
power  over  my  imagination ;  and  I  have  accustomed  my- 
self to  the  contemplation  of  an  humbler  and  more  serene 
sort  of  felicity.  To  tell  you  all  in  two  words,  I  have 
serious  purposes  of  marriage,  which  I  should  be  forced, 
you  see,  to  abandon,  if  I  were  to  adopt  almost  any  of  the 
plans  I  have  hinted  at.  The  poor  girl,  however,  has  no 
more  fortune  than  me  ;  and  it  would  be  madness  nearly  to 
exchange  our  empty  hands  under  the  present  aspect  of  the 
constellations.  We  have  agreed  to  wait  for  a  year  at 
least,  to  see  how  things  may  turn  out ;  and  in  the  mean 
time  I  am  to  be  industrious  and  aspiring  in  my  profession, 
and  she  is  to  study  economy  and  sober-mindedness  at 
home.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  my  dear  John  ?  &c. 

Farewell,  my  dear  John,  let  me  hear  from  you  very  soon, 
and  always  believe  me  most  affectionately  yours. 

26. — To  Thomas  Campbell,  Esq. 

Glasgow,  17th  March,  1801. 

Dear  Campbell — When  I  say  that  I  am  tempted  to  write 
you  by  this  opportunity  of  Richardson's  emigration,  I  am 
sensible  that  I  give  a  reason  for  it  that  would  have  served 
better  as  an  apology  for  my  silence.  He  can  tell  you  now 
in  person  all  that  I  might  otherwise  have  interested  you  by 
writing ;  and  will  probably  bring  you  despatches  from  all 
the  friends  of  whom  you  might  at  another  time  have  been 
glad  to  have  heard  more  indirectly  from  me.  At  the  same 


TO   THOMAS    CAMPBELL.  49 

J 

time,  the  idea  of  his  meeting  with  you  so  soon  has  brought 
you  and  your  adventures  more  impressively  to  my  mind ; 
and  there  seems  to  he  less  presumption  in  the  address  of 
an  uninvited  correspondent,  when  he  makes  use  of  the  in- 
troduction of  a  friend.  These  lines,  I  think,  will  be  less 
unwelcome  to  you,  when  they  are  presented  by  Richard- 
son's hand,  than  if  they  had  been  delivered  to  you  at  the 
post-office. 

I  have  no  news  for  you,  and  am  not  much  disposed  to 
trouble  you  with  egotisms  or  dissertations.  When  I  have 
said  that  I  take  a  constant  interest  in  your  fame  and  your 
happiness,  and  that  I  am  one  of  those  who  do  not  think 
that  esteem  is  much  impaired  either  by  distance  or  silence, 
I  have  said  almost  all  I  have  to  say,  and  should  finish  my 
letter  if  I  were  much  afraid  of  the  bad  consequences  of 
repetition.  As  I  do  not  trouble  you  often,  however,  I 
shall  venture  to  talk  on,  as  if  I  were  assured  of  your  in- 
dulgence, and  not  quite  removed  from  your  familiarity. 
In  the  first  place,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  been  envying 
you  all  this  winter,  and  that  I  am  afraid  the  same  malig- 
nant feeling  will  be  associated  with  the  remembrance*  of 
you  during  the  whole  summer.  I  have  heard  something 
of  your  sickness,  fatigues,  and  perplexities,  but  all  that 
makes  no  difference  in  my  opinion.  The  review  even  of 
these  things  is  pleasant.  They  are  the  deep  shades  of  an 
animated  picture,  and  make  a  most  brilliant  contrast  with 
the  stupid  and  tame  uniformity  of  the  life  that  is  lived 
about  me,  &c. 

I  hear  something  and  see  something  now  and  then,  that 
satisfies  me  you  are  not  idle,  but  I  have  no  distinct  know- 
ledge of  what  you  have  done  or  projected.  I  cannot  promise 
you  either  assistance  or  return,  but  should  be  flattered  with 
the  confidence  that  some  authentic  intelligence  upon  these 
subjects  would  show  you  could  place  in  me. 

Richardson  has  promised  to  write  to  me  now  and  then  in 
the  course  of  your  pilgrimage.  May  I  not  expect  to  see  a 

VOL.  II  —5  D 


50  LIFE   OF    LOUD   JEFFREY. 

postscript  from  you  now  and  then,  or  a  whole  letter  when 
he  makes  you  his  penman  for  the  occasion  ? 

I  wish  you  a  pleasant  and  safe  journey,  and  have  no 
doubt,  indeed,  that  your  expedition  will  be  both  instructive 
and  delightful.  You  will  be  quite  naturalized  in  Germany 
by  the  time  it  is  finished ;  but  you  run  no  risk  of  being 
alienated  here.  By  what  I  can  judge  and  feel,  I  think 
you  would  be  in  no  danger  of  being  forgotten,  either-  by 
your  friends  or  the  public,  though  you  should  be  absent 
and  silent  for  a  much  longer  time  than  you  speak  of.  Poor 
Miss  Graham,  you  will  have  heard,  is  gone  at  last.  Her 
sister  has  just  had  another  child,  and  is  quite  well  again. 
Her  brother,  I  suppose,  will  write  to  you  by  this  oppor- 
tunity. I  should  be  extremely  gratified  if  this  should 
prove  the  beginning  of  a  correspondence  in  which  I  can 
engage  for  nothing  but  regularity  ;  but  I  make  no  pro- 
posals, and  indulge  no  expectations.  You  will  allow  me 
always  to  admire  your  abilities,  and  to  rejoice  in  your 
happiness  and  reputation ;  and  believe  that  I  am,  dear 
Campbell,  very  sincerely  yours. 

27.— To  .George  J.  Bell,  Esq. 

St.  Andrews,  19th  April,  1801. 

Dear  Bell — I  called  for  you  the  night  before  I  left 
Edinburgh,  and  you  called  for  me ;  yet  I  should  not  have 
believed  that  our  meeting  was  prevented  by  any  express 
fatality,  if  the  same  thing  had  not  happened  a  few  evenings 
before,  and  if  I  had  not  gone  four  times  to  my  room  since 
I  came  here  with  the  determination  of  writing  you,  &c. 

It  is  as  well  to  tell  you  in  the  beginning  that  I  have 
nothing  to  tell  you,  and  that  you  need  not  waste  your 
patience  in  reading  this  letter,  if  you  have  as  many  serious 
uses  for  it  as  you  used  to  have.  I  am  very  happy  here, 
and  very  idle.  You  are  very  happy,  I  hope,  too ;  but  I 
am  afraid  you  are  very  busy.  It  makes  me  a  little 
ashamed  of  my  own  idleness,  and  I  daresay  makes  you 


™ 
TO   GEORGE   JOSEPH    BELL.  5 L 

despise  it.  That  is  unchristian,  however,  and  perhaps  not 
very  wise  ;  for  you  labour  only  in  order  to  be  idle,  and  if 
I  can  reap  without  sowing,  I  consider  it  a  great  gain. 
You  will  say  that  I  neglect  the  seed-time ;  but  if  I  have 
reasonable  doubts  both  of  the  climate  and  of  the  soil, 
do  I  not  rather  avoid  an  unprofitable  waste  ?  In  the 
mean  time  I  am  not  so  blameabty  happy  as  I  was  the  last 
time  I  was  here.  You  acquitted  me  then  rather  more 
easily  than  I  could  prevail  on  my  conscience  to  do.  At 
present  I  defy  you  both,  and  look  fierce  and  erect  upon 
fortune. 

It  is  fine  airy  weather,  with  calm  evenings,  and  buds 
and  flowers  in  abundance.  We  cannot  boast  of  our  groves 
indeed ;  but  we  have  rocks  and  level  roads  at  their  feet, 
and  yellow  sunshine  upon  sails,  and  girls  upon  the  links, 
and  skate,  cod,  and  mussels  in  great  profusion.  Will  not 
this  tempt  you  for  a  week  from  your  bankrupts  ?  There 
is  a  great  lack  of  men,  and  you  will  be  of  more  consequence 
•  here  than  the  Lord  Justice  Clerk  at  any  of  his  circuit 
dinners.  They  talk  of  balls  next  week  too,  and  they  have 
concerts  already,  and  there  are  some  learned  men,  and  a 
good  assortment  of  quizzes,  and  not  one  being  to  put  you 
in  mind  of  the  Parliament  House,  except  Walter  Cook,* 
and  the  black  robes  of  the  professors.  James  Reddie  and 
you  gave  each  half  a  promise  to  come  and  see  the  beauties 
while  I  was  here  to  point  them  out  to  you.  That  is  a 
whole  promise  between  you,  so  that  one  of  you  must  come 
at  any  rate.  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  doing,  and  how 
Edinburgh  subsisteth  in  my  absence. 

You  are  one  of  the  people  that  put  me  out  of  humour 
with  myself,  and  make  me  think  ill  of  my  industry,  and 
my  fitness  to  live.  Yet  I  do  not  hate  you.  There  is  still 
some  hope  of  my  redemption  ;  and  I  am  always,  dear  Bell, 
most  sincerely  yours. 

*  A  very  respectable  Writer  to  the  Signet,  and  through  life  a  friond 
of  Jeffrey's. 


52  LIFfi   OF   LORD   JEFFREY.' 


26.—  2*0  Jfr.  <7o7m 

St.  Andrews,  1st  August,  1801. 

My  dear  John,  —  If  you  have  got  any  of  ray  last  letters 
you  will  not  be  surprised  to  see  me  here.  I  am  not  going 
to  be  married  yet,  however,  and  shall  write  you  another 
letter  or  two  from  Edinburgh,  I  am  afraid,  before  I  have 
that  news  to  communicate.  Before  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber, howevor,  I  hope  to  have  renounced  all  the  iniquities 
and  unhappinesses  of  a  bachelor,  and  to  be  deeply  skilled 
in  all  the  comforts  of  matrimony  before  the  end  of  the  year. 
I  enter  upon  the  new  life  with  a  great  deal  of  faith,  love, 
and  fortitude  ;  and  not  without  a  reasonable  proportion  of 
apprehension  and  anxiety.  I  never  feared  any  thing  for 
myself,  and  the  excessive  carelessness  with  which  I  used  to 
look  forward  when  my  way  was  lonely  has  increased,  I 
believe,  this  solicitude  for  my  .companion.  I  am  not  very 
much  afraid  of  our  quarrelling  or  wearying  of  each  other, 
but  I  am  not  sure  how  we  shall  bear  poverty  ;  and  I  am 
sensible  we  shall  be  very  poor.  I  do  not  make  a  £100  a 
year,  I  have  told  you,  by  my  profession.  You  would  not 
marry  in  this  situation  ?  and  neither  would  I  if  I  saw  any 
likelihood  of  its  growing  better  before  I  was  too  old  to 
marry  at  all  ;  or  did  not  feel  the  desolation  of  being  in 
solitude  as  something  worse  than  any  of  the  inconveniences 
of  poverty.  Besides,  we  trust  to  Providence,  and  have 
hopes  of  dying  before  we  get  into  prison,  &c. 

I  wrote  my  uncle  by  the  packet  in  June,  and  communi- 
cated to  him  in  a  dutiful  manner,  the  change  I  propose  to 
make  in  my  condition.  My  father  says  he  will  probably 
do  something  for  me  on  this*  occasion;  but  I  do  not  allow 
myself  to  entertain  any  very  sanguine  expectation.  He 
knows  very  little  about  me,  and  I  can  easily  understand 
that  it  may  be  inconvenient  to  make  any  advance  at  pre- 
sent, which  I  have  no  right  to  receive.  I  shall  certainly 
never  submit  to  ask,  and  endeavour  to  persuade  myself  that 


TO    HIS    BROTHER.  53 

" 

I  am  above  hoping  or  wishing  very  anxiously.  Catherine 
has  her  love  to  you.  She  says  I  flirt  so  extravagantly  with 
her  sisters,  that  she  is  determined  to  make  me  jealous  of 
you,  if  you  give  her  any  encouragement.  She  is  a  very 
good  girl,  but  nothing  prodigious,  and  quite  enough  given 
to  flirtation  without  any  assistance  from  you. 

Farewell,  then,  my  good  citizen.  I  hope  we  shall  see 
you  soon,  and  see  you  as  we  used  to  do,  with  all  your 
strength  and  beauty  about  you.  As  you  are  now  the  only 
unmarried  animal  in  the  genealogy,  we  propose  to  treat 
you  with  great  scorn  and  indignity  as  soon  as  you  arrive 
among  us  ;  to  put  you  into  a  narrow  bed,  and  place  you  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  table,  never  to  wait  dinner  for  you, 
and  to  feed  you  with  cold  meat  and  sour  wine.  Moreover, 
we  mean  to  lay  grievous  taxes  on  you,  and  make  you  stand 
godfather  to  all  our  children.  If  you  give  any  symptoms 
of  reformation,  we  may  probably  relent.  If  you  want  a 
wife,  (or  know  anybody  who  wants  one,)  you  must  come  to 
this  ancient  city.  There  are  more  beauties  than  you  ever 
saw  anywhere  else,  among  the  same  number  of  women ;  and 
not  more  than  five  or  six  men  to  prevent  you  from  choos- 
ing among  them. 

I  bathe,  and  walk,  and  sleep,  and  dream  away  my  time, 
in  the  most  voluptuous  manner ;  but  must  rouse  myself  in 
a  week  or  two,  and  go  to  provide  a  mansion  for  myself,  be- 
fore the  wintry  days  come  back  on  us  again. 

Remember  me  very  affectionately  to  my  uncle.  Take 
care  of  yourself,  and  believe  me  always  most  affectionately 
yours. 

29.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  2d  October,  1801 . 
My  dear  John — 

I  have  told  you  I  am  to  be  married  in  a  month ;  but  the 
latter  days  of  my  courtship  have  been  dismally  overclouded. 


•c 

64  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY, 

Poor  Dr.  Wilson*  died  in  the  beginning  of  September,  and 
his  family  are  still  in  very  great  affliction.  I  was  forttP 
nately  with  them  at  the  time,  for  the  scene  was  really  very 
distressing,  and  a  great  deal  too  much  for  young  gay  girls, 
quite  new  to  affliction,  and  accustomed  to  indulge  every 
emotion  without  any  idea  of  control.  Before  I  arrived, 
they  had  been  for  two  days  constantly  in  the  sick-room, 
and  would  all  of  them  sit  up  every  night  till  they  were  car- 
ried away  in  a  state  of  insensibility.  It  is  in  these  ordinary 
and  vulgar  calamities  of  private  life,  I  think,  that  the  most 
exquisite  misery  is  endured.  Campaigns  and  revolutions 
are  nothing  to  them.  Their  horrors  are  covered  up,  even 
from  the  eyes  of  the  sufferer,  with  smoke  and  glory  ;  and  the 
greatness  of  the  events  help  to  disguise  their  wretchedness. 
They  are  all  quite  well  again  ;  and  as  it  was  her  father's 
particular  request  that  his  death  should  not  put  off  our  mar- 
riage beyond  the  time  that  had  been  originally  fixed  for  it, 
Catherine  has  readily  agreed  that  it  should  take  place  in 
the  beginning  of  November.  I  have  taken  a  house  in  Buc- 
cleugh  Place  for  the  winter,  and  mean  to  set  a  great  ex- 
ample of  economy  and  industry.  I  have  still  some  fears, 
however,  of  dying  the  death  of  other  great  geniuses — by 
hunger.  Catherine  is  not  any  richer  by  her  father's  death. 
— My  dear  John,  I  am  always  most  affectionately  yours. 

30.— To  Robert  Morehead. 

St.  Andrews,  7th  October,  1801. 

My  dear  Bob — I  got  your  letter  yesterday,  which  was 
very  entertaining ;  though  I  could  have  wished  that  you 
had  not  just  kept  up  the  folly  to  the  last,  but  reformed, 
and  been  rational  for  a  few  minutes  before  you  bade  us 
farewell.  My  dear  fellow,  do  you  not  rejoice  at  this  peace  ? 
It  is  the  only  public  event  in  my  recollection  that  has  given 
me  any  lively  sensation  of  pleasure,  and  I  have  rejoiced  at 

*  His  intended  father-in-law. 


TO    ROBERT    MOREHSAD.  55 

it  as  heartily  as  it  is  possible  for  a  private  man,  and  one 
•whose  own  condition  is  not  immediately  affected  by  it,  to 
do.  How  many,  parents  and  children,  and  sisters  and  bro- 
thers, would  that  news  make  happy  !  How  many  pairs  of 
bright  eyes  would  weep  over  that  gazette,  and  wet  its  brown 
pages  with  tears  of  gratitude  and  rapture  !  How  many 
weary  wretches  will  it  deliver  from  camps  and  hospitals, 
and  restore  once  more  to  the  comforts  of  a  peaceful  and 
industrious  life  !  What  are  victories  to  rejoice  at,  com- 
pared with  an  event  like  this  ?  Your  bonfires  and  illumi- 
nations are  dimmed  with  blood  and  with  tears,  and  battle 
is  in  itself  a  great  evil,  and  a  subject  of  general  grief  and 
lamentation.  The  victors  are  only  the  least  unfortunate, 
and  suffering  and  death  have  in  general  brought  us  no 
nearer  to  tranquillity  and  happiness.  I  have  really  been 
extremely  interested  on  this  occasion,  and  for  four-and- 
twenty  hours  thought  more,  I  really  believe,  of  the  country 
than  of  myself.  Catherine  is  very  well,,  however,  and  I 
had  no  cause  of  any  great  anxiety  or  disturbance  on  my 
own  account.  In  such  a  situation  a  man  finds  it  easy  to 
be  philanthropical,  and  worships  the  general  good  without 
the  expense  of  sacrifice. — Believe  me,  dear  Bob,  most  af- 
fectionately yours. 

31. —  To  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  24th  May,  1802. 

My  dear  Bob — Worse  and  worse,  you  see,  in  the  way  of 
regularity.  This  marriage,  you  think,  will  interfere  with 
our  correspondence  ;  but  I  cannot  think  that  yet,  and  would 
rather  have  you  lay  the  blame  upon  circuits  and  sessions, 
and  above  all,  upon  new  houses  and  furniture  for  rooms. 
We  came  here,  to  Queen  Street  I  mean,  about  ten  days 
ago,  and  have  ever  since  been  in  such  an  uproar  with  paint- 
ers, and  chimney-sweeps,  and  packages  of  old  books,  and 
broken  china,  that  I  have  scarcely  had  time  to  eat  my  din- 
ner, or  to  find  out  where  my  pens  and  paper  were  laid  till 


56  LIFE   OF   LORD    JEFFREY. 

yesterday.  Then,  you  know,  this  is  the  beginning  of  our 
session ;  and,  moreover,  it  is  the  time  of  the  General  A# 
sembly  of  the  Scotch  National  Church ;  (you  apostate  dog! 
where  will  you  find  any  thing  so  high  sounding  as  that  in 
your  new  religion  ?)  And  we  have  parsons  and  elders  by 
the  dozen,  with  their  families,  from  St.  Andrews,  to  enter- 
tain ;  and  I  have  a  cause  to  plead  in  the  said  venerable 
Assembly,  and  am  to  declaim,  in  the  name  of  a  Presbytery, 
against  a  poor  sinner  whom  they  have  accused  of  profane 
swearing,  and  a  habit  of  scoffing  at  religion,  and  great 
levity  of  behaviour ;  but  I  declare  to  you  that  I  will  plead 
it  fairly. 

But  you  are  as  gfeat  a  delinquent  as  I  am  nearly, — not 
only  to  me,  (for  I  deserve  nothing,)  but  to  all  your  other 
friends,  as  I  understand,  and  you  cannot  have  half  my 
apologies.  I  hope  you  are  quite  well,  however,  and  can 
only  suppose  that  you  are  busy  making  your  entre'  into  the 
Church.  Are  you  reverend  yet,  or  not  ?  or  is  there  any 
chance  of  your  being  rejected,  or  of  your  changing  your 
mind  and  drawing  back  ?  I  do  not  much  like  the  threat 
in  your  last,  about  not  coming  to  Scotland  for  this  summer, 
and  hope  the  election  will  force  you*  for  a  while  among  us 
whether  you  will  or  not.  If  you  do  not  get  a  curacy  im- 
mediately, I  do  not  see  what  you  can  debate ;  for  I  am 
afraid,  after  you  are  once  beneficed,  you  will  practise  the 
virtue  of  residence  in  a  very  exemplary  manner ;  and  that 
we  shall  see  each  other  no  oftener  than  you  visit  your  me- 
tropolitan. There  is  something  dolorous  in  the  breaking 
up  of  long  intimacies,  and  the  permanent  separation  of 
those  who  have  spent  so  much  of  their  life  together.  We  have 
spent  too  much  of  it  together  though,  I  am  persuaded,  ever 
to  full  off  from  an  intimacy,  and  shall  speak  to  each  other 
with  familiarity,  although  we  should  not  meet  for  twenty 
years  to  come.  I  can  answer  for  myself  at  least,  in  spite 
of  all  the  change  that  marriage  is  to  make  upon  me.  What 
the  Church  may  work  on  you,  I  cannot  so  positively  de- 


TO    ROBERT   MOREIIEAD.  57 

termine.  I  met  with  an  old  sonnet  of  yours  this  morning, 
on  the  first  fall  of  snow  in  December,  1794,  which  brought 
back  to  my  mind  many  very  pleasing  recollections.  In- 
deed, there  is  no  part  of  my  life  that  I  look  back  upon  with 
so  much  delight  as  the  summer  days  we  loitered  at  Her- 
bertshire,  in  the  first  year  of  our  acquaintance.  I  date  the 
beginning  of  it  from  the  time  of  your  father's  death,  and 
often  call  to  mind  the  serene  and  innocent  seclusion  in 
which  we  then  lived  from  the  world.  I  should  be  sorry  if 
I  could  not  live  so  again,  and  am  sure  that  I  could  be  as 
pure,  and  as  careless,  and  as  romantic,  if  I  had  only  as 
much  leisure,  and  as  pliant  a  companion. 

I  have  nothing  new  to  tell  you  of.  Our  Review  has 
been  postponed  till  September,  and  I  am  afraid  will  not  go 
on  with  much  spirit  even  then.  Perhaps  we  have  omitted 
the  tide  that  was  in  our  favour.  We  are  bound  for  a  year 
to  the  booksellers,  and  shall  drag  through  that,  I  suppose, 
for  our  own  indemnification ;  but  I  foresee  the  likelihood 
of  our  being  all  scattered  before  another  year  shall  be  over, 
and,  of  course,  the  impossibility  of  going  on  on  the  footing 
upon  which  we  have  begun.  Indeed,  few  things  have  given 
me  more  vexation  of  late  than  the  prospect  of  the  dissolu- 
tion of  that  very  pleasant  and  animated  society  in  which  I 
have  spent  so  much  of  my  time  for  these  last  four  years, 
and  I  am  really  inclined  to  be  very  sad  when  I  look  for- 
ward to  the  time  when  I  shall  be  deserted  by  all  the  friends 
and  companions  who  possessed  much  of  my  confidence  and 
esteem.  You  are  translated  into  England  already.  Hor- 
ner  goes  to  the  English  bar  in  a  year.  S.  Smith  leaves 
this  country  for  ever  about  the  same  time.  Hamilton 
spends  his  life  abroad  as  soon  as  his  father's  death  sets  him 
at  liberty.  Brougham  will  most  probably  push  into  public 
life,  even  before  a  similar  event  gives  him  a  favourable 
opportunity.  Reddie  is  lost,  and  absolutely  swallowed  up 
in  law.  Lord  Webb  leaves  us  before  winter.  Jo.  Allen 
goes  abroad  with  Lord  Holland  immediately.  Adam  is 


58  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

gone  already,  and,  except  Brown  and  Jo.  Murray,  I  do  not 
think  that  one  of  the  associates  with  whom  I  have  specu- 
lated and  amused  myself,  will  be  left  with  me  in  the  course 
of  eighteen  months.  It  is  not  easy  to  form  new  intimacies, 
and  I  know  enough  of  the  people  among  whom  I  must  look 
for  them,  to  be  positive  that  they  will  never  be  worthy  of 
their  predecessors.  Comfort  me,  then,  my  dear  Bobby,  in 
this  real  affliction,  and  prove  to  me,  by  your  example,  that 
separation  is  not  always  followed  by  forgetfulness,  and  that 
we  may  still  improve  and  gladden  each  other  at  a  distance. 
My  Kitty  is  quite  well,  and  very  rational  and  amiable.  If 
it  were  not  for  her  I  should  run  after  my  friends,  and  in- 
dulge my  inherent  spirit  of  adventure  by  a  new  course  of 
exertion.  But  she  is  my  brother  and  sister,  my  father  and 
mother,  my  Sanscrit,  my  Sydney,  and  my  right  venerable 
cousin,  as  old  Homer  says  in  Andromache. 

I  dined  at  Murrayfield  the  other  day.  Write  me  very 
soon  and  tell  me  what  you  are  doing  and  meditatirig,  and 
especially  when  I  am  to  see  you  again,  and  how.  It  is  the 
sweetest  weather  in  the  world,  and  all  are  in  ecstasy  with 
our  prospect,  and  our  evening  walks.  Remember  our  num- 
ber is  62.  I  see  no  new  books  of  any  consequence,  and 
am  sadly  behind  with  my  task  for  the  Review.  I  have  been 
more  impeded  by  the  law  than  I  had  reckoned  upon.  Cath. 
sends  her  love  to  you,  and  hopes  you  will  bring  her  a  pair 
of  gloves  when  you  come  down.  She  is  going  to  Herbert- 
shire,  she  says,  some  time  this  autumn.  Believe  me  always, 
my  dear  Bob,  yours  most  affectionately. 

32.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  1st  August,  1802. 

My  dear  John — I  am  sorry  to  fall  back  into  the  old 
style ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  tell  you  that  your  letter  of 
the  llth  May  is  still  the  latest  we  have  received  from 
you.  &c. 

We  are  all  here  in  our  usual  way.      How  often  shall  I 


TO    ROBERT    MOREHEAD.  59 

repeat  that  apology  for  all  intelligence  ?  and  how  infallibly 
does  it  come  to  be  less  true,  upon  every  repetition !  The 
little  changes,  which  do  not  seem  to  impair  its  inaccuracy 
accumulate  so  fast  in  a  few  years  of  absence,  that  our  usual 
way  comes  to  be  something  very  different  from  our  old  one. 
Marriage  itself  implies  a  great  number  of  little  changes ; 
and  it  is  probable  you  may  think  me  a  good  deal  altered, 
•while  I  am  unconscious  of  any  other  alteration,  &c. 

It  has  been  a  cold  wet  summer  with  us,  and  we  predict 
another  scarcity.  Speculate  upon  that,  Mr.  Merchant, 
and  come  over  with  your  cargo.  I  am  going  to  write  a 
book  upon  law  next  year — though,  upon  my  honour,  I  do 
riot  know  upon  what  subject.  Everybody  exhorts  me  to 
do  it,  and  I  am  too  polite  to  resist  the  entreaties  of  my 
friends,  and  too  modest  to  set  my  own  conviction  of  my 
inability  against  their  unanimous  opinion.  I  must  have 
more  money,  that  is  the  truth  of  it,  and  this  will  be  an 
experiment  to  catch  some. — Believe  me  always,  dear  John, 
most  affectionately  yours. 

33.— To  Robert  Morehead. 

Edinburgh,  25th  October,  1802. 

My  dear  Bob — You  may  imagine  with  what  anguish  I 
sit  down  to  tell  you  that  our  sweet  little  boy  died  this 
morning  about  five  o'clock.  He  was  seized  in  the  evening 
with  a  sort  of  convulsion  and  fainting  fits,  and  expired  at 
the  time  I  have  mentioned. 

Mrs.  J.  is  better  than  I  could  have  expected,  considering 
the  weak  state  of  her  health,  the  suddenness  of  this  cala- 
mity, and  the  affection  with  which  she  doted  on  the  baby 
that  had  cost  her  so  dearly. 

We  are  still  distracted  with  a  thousand  agonizing  recol- 
lections, but  I  hope  .by  and  by  to  be  more  composed. — 
Believe  me  always,  dear  Bob,  most  affectionately  yours 


60  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

34. — To  Francis  Homer  ^  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  1st  April,  1803. 

My  dear  Homer — I  daresay  the  sight  of  my  handwriting 
is  as  terrible  to  you  as  that  on  the  wall  was  to  Belshazzar; 
and  it  is  just  as  well  to  tell  you  in  the  beginning  that  I  do 
•write  principally  for  the  purpose  of  dunning  you.  I  have 
some  right  to  dun  too ;  not  merely  because  I  am  the  master, 
to  whom  your  service  is  due,  but  because  I  have  myself 
sent  fifty  pages  to  the  press  before  I  ask  you  for  one. 
Hear  now  our  state,  and  consider: — Brown  has  been  dying 
with  influenza,  and  is  forbidden  to  write  for  his  chest's 
sake.  De  Puis*  is  dying  with  asthma,  and  is  forbidden  to 
write  for  his  life's  sake.  Brougham  is  roaming  the  streets 
with  the  sons  of  Belial,  or  correcting  his  colonial  proofs, 
and  trusting  every  thing  to  the  exertions  of  the  last  week, 
and  the  contributions  of  the  unfledged  goslings  who  gabble 
under  his  wings.  Elmsley — even  the  sage  and  staid  Elms- 
ley — has  solicited  to  be  set  free  from  his  engagements. 
And  Timothyf  refuses  to  come  under  any  engagements 
with  the  greatest  candour  and  good  nature  in  the  world. 
Now,  if  you  two  fail  utterly,  I  shall  be  tempted  to  despair 
of  the  republic.  I  would  not  have  you  comfort  your  indo- 
lence, however,  with  this  despair.  If  you  will  send  us 
thirty  pages  between  you,  I  shall  undertake  for  its  salva- 
tion, at  least  for  this  campaign.  And  even  if  you  do  not, 
I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  die  nobly,  but  live  pitifully,  which 
will  be  much  wor.se.  Trash  will  be  collected,  and  I  shall 

have  the  pleasure  of  marching  in  the  van  of  Mr. , 

and  Mr. ,  and  Dr. ,  and  Mr. ,  and  I  do  not 

know  who,  that  are  ready  to  take  your  places  beside  me. 
Now,  my  good  Horner,  let  me  conjure  you  "by  the  con- 
sonancy  of  our  studies,"  and  all  other  serious  considera- 
tions, to  deliver  me  from  this  evil ;  and  refuse  one  dinner, 
or  shorten  two  nights'  sleep,  or  encounter  some  other  petty 

*  A  nickname  for  Dr.  John  Thomson.         j-  Mr.  Thomas  Thomson. 


TO    FRANCIS    HORXER.  61 

evil,  to  save  us  from  this  perplexity.  You  have  many  fair 
days  before  you  to  shine  and  sport  in,  and  may  be  glad 
some  time  to  remember  the  exertions  I  ask  of  you,  &c. 

I  hear  of  your  talking  about  dung,*  and  of  your  making 
a  great  deal  of  money.  Good.  I  wish  you  would  let  me 
into  the  secret.  Remember  me  to  Murray,  whom  I  miss 
very  much,  and  to  Brougham.  This  place  is  in  a  state  of 
terrible  depopulation,  quoad  me  at  least.  Do  you  hear 
any  thing  of  Hamilton  ?  I  daresay  these  alarms  will  send 
him  home,  or  at  least  the  Sanscrit  books,  which  are  still 
more  precious  to  him  than  his  own  person. 

God  bless  you,  Homer.  When  I  am  out  of  humour  with 
my  own  lot,  I  generally  wish  to  be  you.  Do  not  forget 
me,  however ;  and  we  shall  continue  very  good  friends  and 
rivals  no  doubt,  though  you  have  the  vantage  ground. — I 
am,  always  very  faithfully  yourfl. 

P.  S. — The  wig  arrived  in  great  order,  and  I  am  re- 
solved to  mount  it  boldly  next  session. 

35. — To  Francis  Homer. 

Edinburgh,  llth  May,  1803. 

My  dear  Horner — You  will  think  it  but  an  ill  omen  of 
our  correspondence  that  I  have  left  your  first  letter  so  long 
unanswered,  but  it  came  when  I  was  doubly  from  home, 
for  I  was  not  in  Glasgow  when  it  arrived,  and  I  have  been 
in  a  constant  state  of  hurry  and  agitation  ever  since  I  re- 
ceived it.  I  had  reviews  to  write,  and  felons  to  defend, 
visits  to  pay,  and  journeys  to  perform,  directions  to  give, 
and  quarrels  to  make  up — and  all  this  without  one  interval 
of  domestic  tranquillity,  but  under  strange  roofs,  where 
paper  and  pens  were  often  as  hard  to  be  met  with  as  leisure 
and  solitude  were  always.  I  only  came  home  last  night, 
and  as  the  session  begins  to-morrow,  I  think  I  do  your 
epistle  great  honour  in  taking  notice  of  it  so  soon.  By 

*  In  an  appeal  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
VOL.  II.— 6 


62  LIFE   OF   LOUD  JEFFREY. 

this  time  I  suppose  the  third  number  of  the  Review  will 
have  reached  you,  and  I  begin  already  to  feel  some  im- 
patience for  your  own  opinion  of  its  merits,  and  your  ac- 
count of  its  reception  in  London.  If  you  are  disposed  to 
be'very  severe,  I  shall  probably  remind  you  that  it  is  your 
own  fault  that  it  is  no  better,  and  that  you  are  more  re- 
sponsible for  our  blunders  than  those  substitutes  of  yours 
by  whom  they  were  committed.  Do  not  imagine,  however, 
that  I  was  not  very  much  moved  with  your  contrition  and 
conscientious  qualms.  I  would  grant  you  a  fuller  remis- 
sion, if  I  were  not  afraid  that  the  easiness  of  your  penance 
might  tempt  you  to  a  second  transgression.  To  say  the 
truth,  I  had  not  much  expectation  from  the  very  eloquent 
and  urgent  expostulation  I  addressed  to  you,  and  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  on  without  you  before  it  was  sent 
away.  This  time,  however,  we  really  depend  upon  you  ; 
and,  after  your  engagements  and  blushes,  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  suspect  that  you  are  not  to  be  depended  upon  at  all  if 
you  disappoint  us.  That  you  may  have  an  opportunity  of 
exercising  your  sagacity,  I  shall  let  you  guess  at  the  au- 
thors of  the  different  articles,  before  I  disclose  them ;  and 
that  you  may  give  the  London  opinion  without  bias  or  pre- 
possession, I  shall  not  tell  you  till  I  hear  it,  what  that  is 
which  preponderates  in  Edinburgh.  There  is  much  judg- 
ment, I  beg  leave  to  assure  you,  in  this  specimen  of  reti- 
cence, whatever  you  may  think  of  its  eloquence. 

There  is  one  thing,  however,  that  I  will  tell  you.  In 
consequence  of  a  negotiation  conducted  by  Smith  during 
my  absence,  Constable  and  Longman  have  agreed  to  give 
£50  a  number  to  the  editor,  and  to  pay  £10  a  sheet  for 
all  the  contributions  which  the  said  editor  shall  think  worth 
the  money.  The  tertns  are,  as  Mr.  Longman  says,  "  with- 
out precedent ;"  but  the  success  of  the  work  is  not  less  so, 
ind  I  am  persuaded  that  if  the  money  be  well  applied,  it 
will  be  no  difficult  matter  to  insure  its  continuance.  Now, 
ny  sage  councillor,  this  editorship  will  be  offered  to  me  in 


TO   FRANCIS   HORXER.  G3 

the  course  of  a  few  days,  and  though  I  shall  not  give  any 
definite  answer  till  I  hear  from  you,  and  consult  with  some 
of  my  other  friends,  I  will  confess  that  I  am  disposed  to 
accept  of  it.  There  are  pros  and  cons  in  the  case,  no 
doubt.  What  the  pros  are  I  need  not  tell  you.  .£300  a 
year  is  a  monstrous  bribe  to  a  man  in  my  situation.  The 
cons  are — vexation  and  trouble,  interference  with  profes- 
sional employment  and  character,  and  risk  of  general 
degradation.  The  first  I  have  had  some  little  experience 
of,  and  am  not  afraid  for.  The  second,  upon  a  fair  con- 
sideration, I  am  persuaded  I  ought  to  risk.  It  will  be  long 
before  I  make  £300  more  than  I  now  do  by  my  profession, 
and  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  employment  I  have  will 
remain  with  me,  I  know,  in  spite  of  any  thing  of  this  sort. 
The  character  and  success  of  the  work,  and  the  liberality 
of  the  allowance,  are  not  to  be  disregarded.  But  what  in- 
fluences me  the  most  is,  that  I  engaged  in  it  at  first  gra- 
tuitously, along  with  a  set  of  men  whose  character  and 
situation  in  life  must  command  the  respect  of  the  multitude, 
and  that  I  hope  to  go  on  with  it  as  a  matter  of  emolument 
along  with  the  same  associates.  All  the  men  here  will 
take  their  ten  guineas,  I  find,  and,  under  the  sanction  of 
that  example,  I  think  I  may  take  my  editor's  salary  also 
without  being  supposed  to  have  suffered  any  degradation. 
It  would  be  easy  to  say  a  great  deal  on  this  subject,  but 
the  sum  of  it,  I  believe,  is  here,  and  you  will  understand 
me  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  more  eloquent.  I  would  un- 
doubtedly prefer  making  the  same  sum  by  my  profession ; 
but  I  really  want  the  money,  and  think  that  I  may  take 
it  this  way,  without  compromising  either  my  honour  or 
my  future  interest.  Tell  me  fairly  what  you  think  of  it 
Murray  thinks  a  little  too  much  like  a  man  at  "his  ease.  I 
should  probably  think  like  him  if  I  were  in  his  situation  ; 
but  my  poverty  is  greater  than  either  of  you  imagine,  and 
my  prospects  a  great  deal  more  uncertain  than  your  par- 
tiality will  believe.  I  have  weighed  this  deliberately. 


64  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

Whatever  you  think  of  this  matter,  there  is  one  service 
you  can  do  us,  I  daresay.  Inquire  and  look  about  among 
the  literary  men  and  professed  writers  of  the  metropolis, 
and  send  us  down  a  list  of  a  few  that  you  think  worth  ten 
guineas  a  sheet,  and  that  will  work  conscientiously  for  the 
money.  Take  what  measures  you  can  also,  to  let  it  be 
generally  known  among  that  race  of  beings,  that  for  su- 
perior articles  we  give  such  a  price.  A  classical  man  of 
taste  in  particular  is  much  wanted,  fit  for  a  reviewer  of 
Gifford's  Journal  for  instance,  and  such  things.  When 
these  weighty  matters  are  settled,  I  shall  write  you  a  let- 
ter of  anecdotes  more  at  my  ease.  Let  me  hear  from  you 
very  soon ;  and  believe  me  always,  my  dear  Homer,  very 
faithfully  yours. 

P.  S. — Tell  me  what  books  you  are  to  do  for  No.  4, 
and  what  you  think  ought  to  be  done ;  and  begin  to  your 
task,  let  me  entreat  you,  in  good  time.  You  shall  have 
twelve  guineas  if  you  please. 

P.  S. — Thomson  hesitates  about  Dumont.  Say  posi- 
tively whether  you  will  do  it  yourself  or  not. 

36.— To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  2d  July,  1803. 

My  dear  John — It  will  be  a  sad  thing  if  your  reforma- 
tion be  the  cause  of  my  falling  off;  yet  it  is  certain  that 
since  you  have  begun  to  write  oftener,  my  letters  have 
begun  to  be  more  irregular,  &c. 

I  am  glad  you  have  got  our  Review,  and  that  you  like 
it.  Your  partiality  to  my  articles  is  a  singular  proof  of 
your  judgment.  In  No.  3,  I  do  Gentz,  Hayley's  Cowper, 
Sir  J.  Sinclair,  and  Thelvvall.  In  No.  4,  which  is  now 
printing,  I  have  Miss  Baillie's  Plays,  Comparative  View 
of  Geology,  Lady  Mary  Wortley,  and  some  little  ones.  I 
do  not  think  you  know  any  of  my  associates.  There  is 
the  sage  Homer,  however,  whom  you  have  seen,  and  who 
has  gone  to  the  English  bar  with  the  resolution  of  being 


TO   HIS   BROTHER.  65 

Lord  Chancellor ;  Brougham,  a  great  mathematician,  who 
has  just  published  a  book  upon  the  Colonial  Policy  of 
Europe,  which  all  you  Americans  should  read ;  Rev.  Sid- 
ney Smith,  and  P.  Elmsley,  two  learned  Oxonian  priests, 
full  of  jokes  and  erudition ;  my  excellent  little  Sanscrit 
Hamilton,  who  is  also  in  the  hands  of  Bonaparte  at  Fon- 
tainebleau;  Thomas  Thomson  and  John  Murray,  two  in- 
genious advocates ;  and  some  dozen  of  occasional  contri- 
butors, among  whom,  the  most  illustrious,  I  think,  are 
young  Watt  of  Birmingham,  and  Davy  of  the  Royal  In- 
stitution. We  sell  2500  copies  already,  and  hope  to  do 
double  that  in  six  months,  if  we  are  puffed  enough.  I 
wish  you  could  try  if  you  can  repandre  us  upon  your  con- 
tinent, and  use  what  interest  you  can  with  the  literati,  or 
rather  with  the  booksellers  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia. 
I  believe  I  have  not  told  you  that  the  concern  has  now 
become  to  be  of  some  emolument.  After  the  fourth  num- 
ber the  publishers  are  to  pay  the  writers  no  less  than  ten 
guineas  a  sheet,  which  is  three  times  what  was  ever  paid 
before  for  such  a  work,  and  to  allow  <£50  a  number  to  an 
editor.  I  shall  have  the  offer  of  that  first,  I  believe,  and 
I  think  I  shall  take  it,  with  the  full  power  of  laying  it 
down  whenever  I  think  proper.  The  publication  is  in  the 
highest  degree  respectable  as  yet,  as  there  are  none  but 
gentlemen  connected  with  it.  If  it  ever  sink  into  the 
state  of  an  ordinary  bookseller's  journal,  I  have  done 
with  it. 

We  are  all  in  great  horror  about  the  war  here,  though 
not  half  so  much  afraid  as  we  ought  to  be.  For  my  part, 
I  am  often  in  absolute  despair,  and  wish  I  were  fairly 
piked,  and  done  with  it.  It  is  most  clearly  and  unequivo- 
cally a  war  of  our  own  seeking,  and  an  offensive  war  upon 
our  part,  though  we  have  no  means  of  offending.  The 
consular  proceedings  are  certainly  very  outrageous  and 
provoking,  and,  if  we  had  power  to  humble  him,  I  rather 
think  we  have  had  provocation  enough  to  do  it.  But  with 

6* 


66  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

our  means,  and  in  the  present  state  and  temper  of  Europe, 
I  own  it  appears  to  me  like  insanity.  There  is  but  one 
ground  upon  which  our  conduct  can  be  justified.  If  we 
are  perfectly  certain  that  France  is  to  go  to  war  with  us, 
and  will  infallibly  take  some  opportunity  to  do  it  with 
greater  advantage  in  a  year  or  two,  there  may  be  some 
prudence  in  being  beforehand  with  her,  and  open  the  un- 
equal contest  in  our  own  way.  While  men  are  mortal, 
and  the  fortunes  of  nations  variable,  however,  it  seems 
ridiculous  to  talk  of  absolute  certainty  for  the  future ;  and 
we  insure  a  present  evil,  with  the  magnitude  of  which  we 
are  only  beginning  to  be  acquainted.  In  the  mean  time 
we  must  all  turn  out,  I  fancy,  and  do  our  best.  There  is 
a  corps  of  riflemen  raising,  in  which  I  shall  probably  have 
a  company.  I  hate  the  business  of  war,  and  despbe  the 
parade  of  it ;  but  we  must  submit  to  both  for  a  while.  I 
am  happy  to  observe  that  there  is  little  of  that  boyish 
prating  about  uniforms,  and  strutting  in  helmets,  that 
distinguished  our  former  arming.  We  look  sulky  now, 
»nd  manful,  I  think,  &c. — Always,  dear  John,  very  affec- 
tionately yours. 

37.—  To  George  J.  Bell,  Esq. 

St.  Andrews,  7th  August,  1803. 

My  dear  Bell — I  wish  you  were  here  to  learn  how  to 
be  idle,  or  to  teach  me  how  to  be  busy.  We  are  in  the 
middle  of  eating  and  drinking,  and  are  so  much  engrossed 
with  it,  that,  with  the  most  virtuous  disposition  in  the 
world,  I  have  barely  been  able  to  write  a  few  lines  to  my 
father  (at  three  sittings)  and  to  read  a  half  of  the  Tale  of 
a  Tub,  &c. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  and  in  spite  of  the  rainy  weather, 
which  has  annoyed  us  ever  since  we  set  foot  upon  this 
kingdom,  we  are  all  in  good  health.  Kate,  I  think,  really 
stouter,  and  more  uniformly  alert  than  she  has  been  for  a 
very  long  time.  This  she  desires  you  to  tell  Charles,  for 


TO    GEORGE   J.    BELL.  67 

•whose  conversation  she  has  a  much  higher  esteem  than  for 
his  bottles. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  perfectly  well,  and  succeed  very 
tolerably  in  my  endeavours  to  forget  that  I  have  reviews 
to  write,  and  Frenchmen  to  conquer,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  weeks.  The  last  evil,  indeed,  seems  to  enter  but  lit- 
tle 4nto  the  imagination  of  anybody  I  meet  with.  It  is  a 
fashion  here  to  laugh  at  the  notion  of  an  invasion,  and  I 
am  ridiculed  as  a  visionary  for  hinting  something  as  to  its 
possibility.  They  are  so  much  in  earnest  in  this  notion, 
however,  that  there  is  not  a  volunteer  or  a  musket  from 
the  Tay  to  the  Forth ;  and  a  corporal's  guard,  I  verily  be- 
lieve, might  march  triumphantly  from  one  end  of  the 
country  to  the  other.  A  privateer,  with  thirty  men,  I  am 
quite  certain,  might  land  here  and  carry  off  all  the  cattle 
and  women  without  the  smallest  danger.  I  am  not  quite 
so  well  assured,  however,  by  all  this  confidence,  but  that 
I  have  some  anxiety  to  know  what  you  are  doing  in  Edin- 
burgh as  to  your  armaments  and  preparations.  What  has 
become  of  our  corps  ?  and  have  you  entered  into  any 
other  ?  Have  any  steps  been  taken  as  to  the  formation 
of  the  army  of  reserve  ?  or  any  thing  been  done  about  the 
general  levy?  We  hear  nothing  in  this  corner  any  more 
than  if  we  were  at  St.  Kilda.  There  is  but  one  Scotch 
newspaper  comes  to  the  whole  town,  and  they  read  it  so 
slow,  that  its  contents  are  not  generally  known  till  four 
days  after  its  arrival.  Tell  me  too  what  you  hear  of  our 
Review.  The  College  takes  one  copy  of  it  too,  but  they 
do  not  commonly  cut  up  the  learned  articles,  and  content 
themselves  with  our  politics  and  poetry,  &c. 

Farewell,  dear  Bell ;  I  hope  you  never  suspect  me  of 
forgetting  all  that  I  have  long  owed  to  your  unwearied 
and  disinterested  friendship.  You  think,  I  can  perceive, 
that  I  am  apt  to  be  led  away  by  idle  and  profligate  asso- 
ciates ;  but,  if  I  do  not  overrate  my  own  steadiness,  I  am 
in  no  great  danger  from  that  kind  of  seduction.  I  will  go 


68  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFRET. 

a  certain  length,  out  of  curiosity  and  by  way  of  experi- 
nu'iit,  but  I  hope  I  can  stop  where  I  have  determined  to 
stop,  and  am  sure  that  I  recur  always  with  more  satisfac- 
tion to  the  tried  and  substantial  merits  of  my  oldest 
friends.  This  sentence  must  be  inspired,  I  suppose ;  at 
least,  I  do  not  know  how  else  it  got  in. 

Write  me  very  soon,  my  dear  Bell,  and  believe  me 
always  very  faithfully  yours. 


38. — To  Francis  Homer,  Esq. 

St.  Andrews,  8th  August,  1803. 

My  dear  Homer — From  this  place  of  leisure,  you  will 
expect  a  long,  collected  letter ;  but  my  wits  are  so  besotted 
with  the  epidemic  eating  and  drinking  of  the  place,  and 
my  hand  so  disused  to  writing,  that  I  feel  as  if  it  were 
impossible  for  me  to  get  over  the  leaf  with  you. 

I  came  here  a  week  ago  with  the  resolution  to  study 
very  hard ;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  many  vigorous  and  reite- 
rated endeavours,  I  have  been  able  to  do  nothing  but  read 
the  Tale  of  a  Tub,  and  answer  six  cards  of  invitation. 
My  conscientious  qualms,  too,  are  daily  becoming  less  im- 
portunate, and  unless  you  will  flap  me  up  to  something 
like  exertion,  I  think  it  is  very  likely  that  in  another  week 
I  shall  have  forgotten  that  I  have  reviews  to  write,  and 
Frenchmen  to  slaughter.  It  is  impossible,  indeed,  to  be 
in  a  situation  more  favourable  for  that  last  act  of  oblivion. 
There  is  not  an  armed  man  in  the  whole  county ;  and  a 
single  privateer  might  carry  off  all  the  fat  cattle  and  fair 
women  in  the  district.  To  me,  who  make  it  a  point  of 
conscience  to  believe  in  an  invasion,  this  negligence  is  per- 
fectly shocking.  Our  Review  came  out,  though,  after  a 
very  hard  labour,  on  the  regular  day ;  and  ia  by  this  time, 
I  have  no  doubt,  in  your  hands.  It  is  my  business  to  re- 
ceive opinions,  you  know,  and  not  to  offer  any.  I  am 
much  afraid,  however,  that  your  "Lord  King"  is  the  best 


TO    FRANCIS   HORNER.  69 

article  in  the  number;  and  you  will  think  some  of  the 
most  laborious  very  bad.  I  am  impatient  to  hear  what 
you  think,  and  also  what  you  hear.  If  we  begin  to  sink 
in  general  estimation  at  this  crisis,  we  shall  speedily  go 
to  the  bottom,  &c. 

I  am  quite  inconsolable  at  the  departure  of  the  Smiths. 
They  leave  Edinburgh,  I  believe,  this  day,  and  they  leave 
nobody  in  it  whom  I  could  not  have  spared  more  easily. 
There  has  been  a  sad  breaking  up  of  the  society  in  which  we 
used  to  live  so  pleasantly ;  Hamilton,  Allen,  and  Horner,  and 
now  the  Smiths.  I  hope  we  shall  meet  somewhere  again, 
though  I  despair  of  seeing  those  careless  and  cordial  hours 
that  we  have  formerly  spent  together.  In  heaven,  it  will 
be  quite  another  sort  of  thing,  I  am  told.  However,  let 
us  write  to  each  other,  and  keep  away  the  approaches  of 
strangeness  as  long  as  possible.  Brougham  talks  of  emi- 
grating also ;  and  then  I  shall  have  nobody  but  Murray, 
whom  I  admire  and  esteem  more  every  day.  I  see  nobody 
who  has  such  good  manners  and  good  dispositions,  &c. 

Let  me  know,  my  dear  Horner,  how  you  proceed ;  and 
how  soon  you  will  be  able  to  patronize  me.  As  soon  as 
you  are  chancellor,  I  am  resolved  to  cringe  to  you  for  a 
place.  Tell  me  something  about  your  society,  and  give 
me  some  more  of  those  sage  advices  as  to  my  conduct, 
from  which  I  used  to  receive  so  much  benefit  and  delight. 
It  was  announced  last  night  in  the  club  that  Lord  Webb 
was  to  pass  next  winter  in  Edinburgh ;  I  hope  you  will 
confirm  this,  and  send  him  down  fully  convinced  that,  with- 
out being  a  member  of  the  said  club,  it  is  impossible  *o 
have  any  tolerable  existence  in  Edinburgh.  Do  not  forget 
your  promise  of  recruiting  for  us.  We  shall  want  journey- 
men for  a  third,  and  sometimes  for  a  half  of  each  number, 
and  I  suspect  they  may  be  got  better  in  town  than  anywhere 
else.  I  wish  we  could  get  a  rational  classic,  and  get  that 
part  of  the  journal  done  in  a  superior  style.  I  long  fox' 
the  sheet  of  politics  you  promised  me,  and  am  beginning 


70  LIFE   OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 

to  have  some  curiosity  to  know  what  is  to  become  of  the 
world. — Believe  me,  &c. 

39. — To  Francis  Earner,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  2d  September,  1803. 

My  dear  Horner — My  last  letter  crossed  yours  on  the 
road,  and,  of  course,  made  it  a  delicate  question  which  of 
us  was  in  duty  bound  to  write  again.  While  I  was  at  St. 
Andrews,  the  genius  loci  confined  me  to  eating  and  drink- 
ing ;  but  now  I  have  awakened  from  my  dream,  and  the 
cares  and  anxieties  of  my  editorial  functions  begin  to  come 
thick  upon  me  again.  I  have,  unfortunately,  two  or  three 
law  papers  to  write,  and  am  so  miserably  provided  with 
books  for  reviewing,  that  I  am  afraid  my  quota  will  be 
smaller  this  time  than  ever,  Now  that  we  are  paid  for  our 
work,  I  feel  a  greater  delicacy  in  laying  hold  of  any  long 
article  for  myself,  and  should  be  perfectly  satisfied  if  those 
who  do  lay  hold  of  them  would  execute  them  according 
to  engagement.  Thomson  has  done  nothing  yet  to  Du- 
mont,  &c. 

You  see,  then,  how  destitute  I  am,  and  you  see  tjie 
meaning  of  all  this.  It  is,  that  you  must  do  a  great  deal 
yourself,  and  do  it  quickly.  You  have  some  very  good 
books,  and  you  will  never  have  so  good  a  time  for  working. 
Now,  my  dear  Horner,  do  not  take  these  for  verba  solemnia 
of  my  official  dunning.  I  am  in  profound  earnest,  and 
most  serious  perplexity.  You  must  not  only  work  your- 
self for  us,  but  you  must  set  on  the  rest.  Tell  Smith  we 
cannot  do  without  him.  We  shall  have  no  light  articles 
at  all,  if  he  deserts  us.  Do  stir  up  Peter  Elmsley,  more- 
over, and  tell  him  that  he  promised  to  let  me  have  some- 
thing. Both  of  these  culprits  have  concealed  their  ad- 
dresses from  me.  Let  me  know  where  to  find  them,  and 
I  s'hall  persecute  them  in  person.  You  are  sick  of  review- 
ing, I  daresay.  So  am  I ;  but  I  have  very  little  else  to 
Bay  to  you.  I  heard  and  saw  so  little  at  St.  Andrews, 


TO   FRANCIS   HORNER.  71' 

that  I  feel  now  like  one  of  the  seven  sleepers  on  his  return 
to  the  world.  The  world  of  Edinburgh  is  very  empty  at 
present,  and  Smith  and  Elmsley  will  have  told  you,  at  any 
rate,  all  those  parts  of  its  history  which  could  give  you 
any  pleasure.  I  am  quite  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of 
Smith,  and  cannot  pass  by  his  door  without  murmuring. 
I  hope  you  see  him  often.  Tell  him  to  write  me  soon,  and 
often.  If  I  knew  his  address,  I  should  have  been  com- 
plaining to  him  already.  Murray  is  still  unwell,  &c. 

My  dear  Horner — This  doctor*  will  never  do.  I  wish 
you  would  explain  to  me  how  he  is  endured  in  London,  and 
what  his  friends  say  of  his  late  doings,  &c.  Tell  me  what 
is  said  and  expected  among  your  wise  people,  if  there  be 
ten  left-  in  your  absurd  city. 

40. — To  Francis  Homer,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  8th  September,  1803. 

My  dear  Horner — Your  letter  is  one  degree  too  digni- 
fied, and  the  expostulation  a  little  too  harsh.  I  care  very 
little  about  the  Review,  and,  though  I  am  not  going  to  give 
it  up  in  a  pet,  I  would  much  rather  give  it  up  altogether 
than  give  any  one  person  a  pretext  for  saying  that  I  se- 
lected the  most  important  or  the  easiest  articles  for  myself. 
Perhaps  the  editor  should  not  have  been  a  writer  at  all. 
However,  I  hasten  to  appease  you  by  saying  that  I  have 
got  back  Millar,  and  shall  try  what  can  be  done  with  him, 
though  it  is  a  subject  I  do  not  very  much  like.  I  may  now 
mention  to  you  that  Thomson  and  I  agreed  to  propose  it  to 
Cranstoun,f  of  whose  writing  powers  all  his  friends  speak 
very  highly,  but  he  declines  for  the  present  taking  any 
concern  in  our  business.  Was  this  very  weak  and  unrea- 
sonable, 0  most  relentless  Censor  ?  or  a  reason  for  threat- 
ening to  desert  us,  thou  iron-hearted  man  ? 

Wednesday,   14th — I  had  written  this  length  on  the 

*  Addington,  Prime  Minister. 

f  George  Cranstoun,  afterward  Lord  Corchouse — a  judge. 


72  LIFE   OF   LOKD   JEFFREY. 

morning  I  received  your  letter,  when  I  was  suddenly  called 
to  the  country  by  Mrs.  J.'s  illness.  She  is  now  almost  en- 
tirely recovered,  and  came  here  with  me  last  night.  I  pro- 
ceed now  with  my  answer.  May  I  entreat  you  now  to  do 
Malthus,  if  possible,  for  this  number  ?  You  seem  to  treat 
me  a  little  too  much  like  a  common  dun,  and  to  fancy  that 
there  is  something  very  unreasonable  in  my  proposing  any 
thing  that  is  to  give  you  trouble,  or  cost  you  a  little  exer- 
tion. I  know  that  writing  reviews  is  not  very  pleasant  to 
either  of  us  ;  but  if  I  feel  the  burden  pressing  very  heavy 
on  myself,  is  it  not  natural  for  me  to  ask  some  assistance 
from  one  who  is  so  willing  to  bear  his  share  of  it  ?  I  hope 
you  do  not  imagine  that  I  have  made  a  trade  of  this  editor- 
ship, or  that  I  have,  upon  the  whole,  any  interest  in  the 
publication  that  is  essentially  different  from  yours,  or 
Smith's,  or  that  of  any  of  our  original  associates.  The 
main  object  of  every  one  of  us,  I  understand  to  be,  our  own 
amusement  and  improvement — joined  with  the  gratification 
of  some  personal,  and  some  national  vanity.  The  pecuniary 
interest  I  take  to  be  a  very  subordinate  consideration  to  us 
all,  and  beg  leave,  for  myself,  to  say  that  it  shall  never 
bind  for  me  an  hour  to  this  undertaking  after  it  comes  to 
be,  as  you  express  it,  altogether  on  a  different  footing  from 
what  it  was  in  the  beginning.  When  I  am  deserted  by  my 
old  associates,  I  give  up  the  concern ;  and  while  they  are 
willing  to  support  it,  I  shall  feel  myself  entitled  to  pester 
them  with  the  story  of  our  perplexities,  and  tojnake  them 
bear,  if  possible,  their  full  share  of  my  anxieties. 

I  dx>  not  know,  my  dear  Homer,  why  I  should  write  all 
this,  or  why  I  should  feel  myself  growing  angry  and  in- 
dignant as  I  advance  farther  into  this  subject.  I  have  a 
right,  I  hope,  to  ask  you  to  write  for  us  ;  and  you  have  a 
right,  no  doubt,  to  excuse  yourself,  and  to  make  your  own 
apologies ;  but  do  not,  if  you  please,  announce  to  me  so 
formally  what  "  you  wish  to  be  understood"  on  the  subject 
of  your  contributions,  nor  fancy  that  I  am  to  take  your 


TO   FRANCIS   HORNER.  73 

orders  as  if  I  were  a  shopman  of  Constable's.  Forgive  me 
for  this  want  of  temper.  Brougham  and  I  shall  write  our 
full  proportion  for  this  number ;  Murray,  I  hope,  more 
than  he  has  yet  done,  and  T.  Thomson  also.  If  you  fall 
off,  therefore,  it  will  not  be  by  our  example,  but  in  spite 
of  it.  "We  shall  be  much  at  a  loss  for  light  sheet  articles, 
unless  Smith  consents  to  exert  himself.  I  shall  write  to 
him  to-morrow  or  next  day ;  but  am  at  this  moment  so 
much  engaged  with  law  papers  that  I  have  scarcely  a  mo- 
ment to  spare  for  any  thing  else.  I  beg  you  to  give  me 
some  .notice  of  Elmsley  if  you  will  not  submit  to  dun  him 
yourself  by  my  deputation. 

My  dear  Homer,  you  have  no  need  to  be  anxious  about 
your  professional  destiny,  and  before  you  are  called  to  the 
bar  you  will  have  time  enough  to  lay  in  your  law,  even 
though  you  should  steal  a  day  or  two  in  the  quarter  to 
write  reviews.  I  have  no  news  for  you.  I  have  not  seen 
Brougham  since  my  return  here.  Murray  is  well  again, 
and  goes  to  the  country  to-morrow  for  a  week,  to  recruit. 
I  am  in  daily  expectation  of  the  letter  you  promise  me  in 
your  last,  and  of  much  illumination  on  the  state  of  affairs 
and  parties  in  your  city.  De  Puis  goes  to  London  to-mor- 
row, I  believe.  He  is  a  good  creature.  Are  there  no 
tidings  yet  of  Allen  ? 

41. — To  Francis  Homer,  JSsq. 

Edinburgh,  19th  October,  1803. 

My  dear  Homer — I  have  got  your  letter,  but  not  the 
packet.  It  will  come  to-morrow,  I  suppose,  as  it  is  a  fast 
day,  on  which  no  work  can  be  done.  Why  do  you  only 
give  me  one  article  ?  and  that  only  fifteen  pages !  You 
might  at  least  have  added  Sir  John  Sinclair's.  But,  as 
you  have  one  scolding  epistle  of  mine  on  hand  already, 
and  as  another  will  do  neither  of  us  any  good,  I  intermit 
my  wrath.  You  are  right  about  the  catalogue.  It  shall 
be  a  mere  list;  but  then  it  will  not  fill  a  sheet,  and  I  must 

VOL.  II.— 7 


74  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

scribble  to  fill  up  the  deficiency,  for  there  is  not  another 
soul  that  will  make  any  exertion.  After  all,  I  believe  w« 
shall  get  out  within  a  day  after  our  proper  time,  though 
what  sort  of  figure  we  are  to  make,  I  really  have  not 
leisure  to  conjecture.  P.  Elmsley  has  sent  a  sheetful  of 
Greek  upon  Athenaeus.  We  have  no  mathematics  at  all. 
I  write  chiefly  to  tell  you  about .  He  has  no  objec- 
tion to  Wishaw  undertaking  his  book,  and  I,  of  course,  am 
extremely  pleased  to  get  rid  of  so  delicate  an  engagement. 
Is  it  intended  to  be  done  in  the  manner  of  an  analysis  ? 
If  not,  take  care  and  do  not  let  your  friend  laud  too  much. 
The  author's  connection  with  us  of  course  must  be  avoided. 
But  a  reviewer,  who  is  not  one  of  us,  may  require  to  be 
reminded  of  the  sternness  and  severity  that  this  requires. 
I  beg  you  would  spare  no  urgency,  and  lose  no  time,  in 
endeavouring  to  engage  so  respectable  an  associate/  If 
we  could  once  dip  him  in  our  ink,  I  think  we  should  have 
something  like  a  hold  on  him.  I  hope  we  shall  never 
again  get  into  such  a  scrape  as  we  are  just  coming  out  of, 
(and  that  not  without  damage,  I  fear.)  But  we  shall  never 
get  on  comfortably  unless  we  enlarge  our  phalanx  by  the 
association  of  two  or  three  new  recruits.  For  next  num- 
ber I  have  not  much  apprehension ;  you  must  do  a  great 
deal,  (after  that  I  shall  never  urge  you  beyond  your  con- 
venience), and  Smith,  I  daresay,  will  not  be  idle.  I 
scarcely  know,  however,  what  we  shall  have  to  put  in  it. 
Walter  Scott  has,  in  a  manner,  offered  to  do  Godwin's  Life 
of  Chaucer;  and  as  he  understands  the  subject,  and  hates 
the  author,  I  have  a  notion  he  will  make  a  good  article  of 
it.  We  must  abate  something  of  our  general  asperity; 
but  I  think  we  should  make  one  or  two  examples  of  great 
delinquents  in  every  number,  &c. 

There  is  no  news,  and  I  have  no  leisure  to  prattle  to 
yes.  All  we  reviewers  are  getting  our  heads  modelled  by 
Henning,  and  propose  to  send  him  to  London  to  complete 
the  series,  by  the  addition  of  your  vast  eyebrows.  I  am 


TO    FRANCIS   HORNER.  75 

still  in  despair  for  the  country,  and  mean  to  fast  and  pray 
to-morrow  as  powerfully  as  possible. 

Brougham  and  Murray  and  I  are  rather  awkwardly 
situated  as  to  our  military  functions.  We  have  two  offers 
now  at  avizandum,  to  officer  a  battalion  of  pioneers,  or  one 
of  the  additional  companies  of  the  county  volunteers; 
neither  of  which  corps,  however,  are  yet  raised,  &c. — God 
bless  you,  dear  Horner,  ever  very  truly  yours. 

42. — To  Francis  Horner,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  19th  February,  1804. 
My  dear  Horner — 

I  think  your  sensibilities  about  Stewart  somewhat  too 
nice.*  I  have  only  joined  his  name  with  Condorcet's  in 
reference  to  a  subject  on  which  he  himself  quotes  that 
author;  but  I  will  alter  much  more  than  that  to  give  you 
satisfaction.  I  readily  agree  with  you  that  the  article 
might  have  been  made  better;  but  I  cannot  think  that  the 
subject  afforded  an  opportunity  for  a  very  good  one.  I  am 
very  nearly  in  earnest  in  all  I  have  said,  and  admit  only 
a  certain  degree  of  inaccuracy,  which  could  not  have  been 
well  avoided,  without  making  the  doctrine  less  popular  and 
comprehensible.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  there  is  some 
value  in  my  view  of  the  limitation  of  metaphysical  disco- 
veries, and  I  will  take  any  wager  you  please,  that  when  we 
are  both  eighty,  you  will  be  very  much  of  my  opinion. 

I  am  afraid  I  shall  disappoint  you  in  another  article. 
I  mean  Dumont.  Thomson  has  at  last  positively  declined 
doing  him,  and  sent  him  back  to  me  only  three  days  ago. 
I  have  read  a  volume,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  have 
already  a  very  decided  opinion  as  to  the  merits  of  the 
system.  The  book  is  written  with  great  acuteness,  and 
the  doctrine  is  for  the  most  part  substantially  good;  but 
for  novelty  or  discovery,  I  can  see  nothing"  that  in  the 

*-An  article  by  Jeffrey  on  one  of  Dugald  Stewart's  Works. 


76  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

least  resembles  it.  A  great  deal  of  labour  is  bestowed  in 
making  useless  distinctions,  and  imperfect  catalogues  of 
things  that  never  were  either  overlooked  or  mistaken  by 
reasonable  men.  However,  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  my 
rashness,  I  shall  read  the  book  twice  over,  and  treat  the 
man  with  all  imaginable  respect,  &c. — Believe  me  always, 
di  vostra  vecchiezza  devotissimo  servitore. 

43. — To  Francis  Homer ,  JSsq. 

Edinburgh,  6th  May,  1804. 

My  dear  Homer — I  do  not  know  whether  the  few  lines 
I  sent  you  from  York  will  be  allowed  to  give  me  a  legal 
dispensation  from  the  promise  of  writing,  immediately  after 
my  arrival  in  Scotland.  I  got  here,  however,  on  Friday 
morning,  and  slept  all  that  forenoon.  On  Saturday  morn- 
ing I  thought  it  my  duty  to  go  to  the  drill ;  and  to-day  I 
am  afraid  I  have  put  off  so  much  of  the  morning  in  idle- 
ness, that  there  is  but  little  chance  of  this  being  ready  for 
the  post  till  to-morrow. 

I  have  nothing  to  tell  you  of  my  journey,  which  was 
prosperous  and  sleepy.  Mrs.  J.,  I  am  happy  to  say,  I 
found  in  much  better  health  than  when  I  left  her ;  and  my 
table  not  so  much  encumbered  with  papers  as  to  make 
me  despair  of  clearing  it  before  the  beginning  of  the  ses- 
sion, &c. 

So  much  for  the  res  familiares.  The  res  publicaej  I  am 
afraid,  will  not  be  discussed  so  easily.  Happening  to  be 
long  in  bed  yesterday,  I  found  myself  under  the  necessity 
of  giving  audience  in  that  dignified  posture  to  Constable 
&  Co.,  who  came  dutifully  to  offer  their  congratulation, 
and  to  receive  their  orders,  on  my  return.  The  cry  is 
still  for  copy.  We  must  publish,  it  seems,  by  the  15th  of 
July,  to  attain  the  object  for  which  we  went  back  to  the 
18th ;  and  tjiey  wish,  if  possible,  to  ^et  the  press  agoing 
in  the  course  of  ten  days  from  this  time.  Now,  my  most 
trusted  and  perfidious  Homer,  I  earnestly  conjure  you  to 


TO    FRANCIS    IIORXER.  77 

think  how  necessary  it  is  for  you  to  set  instantly  about 
Malthus.  Shut  yourself  up  within  your  double  doors ; 
commit  the  doctor  for  one  eight  days  to  his  destiny  •  and 
cease  to  perplex  yourself  "  with  what  the  Dutch  intend, 
and  what  the  French ;"  let  the  blue  stockings  of  Miss 

be  gartered  by  some  idler  hand ;  resist,  if  possible, 

the  seductions  of  Mrs.  Smith,  and  the  tender  prattlings  of 
Saba ;  think  only  of  the  task  which  you  have  undertaken, 
and  endeavour  to  work  out  your  liberation  in  as  short  a 
time  as  possible.  I  do  think  it  of  consequence  that  we 
should  begin,  if  possible,  with  this  article,  both  because  it 
is  more  important  and  more  impatiently  expected  than 
any  other,  and  because  I  really  do  not  know  of  any  other 
that  I  have  a  right  to  demand,  or  the  power  of  getting 
ready  so  soon,  &c. 

The  bibliopoles  confided  to  me  another  great  plan,  in 
which  I  since  find  that  most  of  our  friends  have  been  em- 
barked with  great  eagerness.  It  is  no  less  than  writing 
and  publishing  an  entire  new  Encyclopaedia,  upon  an  im- 
proved plan.  Stewart,  I  understand,  is  to  lend  his  name, 
and  to  write  the  preliminary  discourse,  besides  other  articles. 
Playfair  is  to  superintend  the  mathematical  department, 
and  Bobison  the  natural  philosophy.  Thomas  Thomson 
is  extremely  zealous  in  the  cause.  W.  Scott  has  embraced 
it  with  great  affection  ;  and  W.  Clerk,  Cranstoun,  and 
Erskine,  have  all  agreed  to  contribute  every  thing  that 
they  possibly  can  do  to  its  success.  Coventry,  Leslie,  and 
that  excellent  drudge  Stevenson,  are  also  to  be  employed 
in  the  redaction ;  and  English  assistance  is  to  be  solicited 
as  soon  as  the  scheme  can  be  brought  to  any  maturity. 
We  hope  to  have  your  assistance  also.  The  authors  are  to 
be  paid  at  least  as  well  as  the  reviewers,  and  are  to  be 
allowed  to  retain  the  copyright  of  their  articles  for  separate 
publication,  if  they  think  proper.  You  will  understand 
that  all  this  is  only  talked  of  as  yet ;  but  from  the  way  in 
which  it  is  talked  of,  I  rather  think  it  will  be  attempted. 


78  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

I  should  have  given  you  more  particulars,  if  I  had  been 
able  to  meet  with  Thomson,  but  he  is  still  in  the  country, 
and  J,  have  only  gathered  these  cuttings  from  Constable 
and  \V.  Scott. 

44. —  To  Francis  Homer ,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  3d  September,  1804. 

Dear  Homer — I  have  intended  to  answer  your  letter 
every  day  this  week,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  believe 
that  I  am  in  earnest  when  I  inform  you  that  I  have  risen 
at  seven  o'clock  this  morning  to  make  myself  sure  of  an 
opportunity.  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,  however, 
except  just  to  dun  and  press  as  usual.  I  am  amused  with 
your  audacity  in  imputing  fastidiousness  to  me.  I  am 
almost  as  great  an  admirer  as  Sharpe.  The  only  difference 
is,  that  I  have  a  sort  of  consciousness  that  admirers  are 
ridiculous,  and  therefore  I  laugh  at  almost  every  thing  I 
admire,  or  at  least  let  people  laugh  at  it  without  contra- 
diction. You  must  be  in  earnest  when  you  approve,  and 
have  yet  to  learn  that  every  thing  has  a  respectable,  and  a 
deridable,  aspect.  I  meant  no  contempt  to  Wordsworth 
by  putting  him  at  the  head  of  the  poetical  firm.  I  classed 
him  with  Southey  and  Coleridge  who  were  partners  once, 
and  have  never  advertised  their  secession.  We.  shall  be 
overwhelmed  with  poetry.  Scott's  Lay  is  in  the  press  too, 
and  will  be  out  by  November.  There  is  a  set  here  as  much 
infatuated  about  it  as  you  were  with  Mackintosh.  W. 
Erskine  recited  me  half  a  canto  last  night,  which  he  says 
is  inimitable  ;  and  I  acquiesced  with  a  much  better  grace, 
I  am  sure,  than  you  did  to  Sharpe's  raptures  upon  Words- 
worth. I  am  only  afraid  that  they  have  persuaded  Scott 
into  the  same  opinion,  and  that  the  voice  of  impartiality 
will  sound  to  him  like  malignity  or  envy.  There  is  no 
help — -justice  must  be  done,  and  I,  like  the  executioner, 
shall  kiss  him,  and  whirl  him  off,  if  the  sentence  be  against 
him.  I  rather  think  though  that  he  will  be  acquitted. 


TO    FEAXCIS    HORNER.  79 

Talking  of  poets,  I  have  a  desponding  epistle  from  poor 
Campbell,  in  which  he  says  that  his  health  is  bad,  and 
that  his  spirits  are  worn  down  by  staring  all  day  in  a 
newspaper  office.  This  is  lamentable.  I  wish  you  would 
walk  to  Pimlico,  and  comfort  him.  Is  it  not  possible  to 
get  something  done  for  him  ?  Wilna  was  better  than  a 
newspaper  office.  A  race-horse  is  better  at  grass  than  in 
a  plough.  He  has  promised  some  reviews,  but  I  am  skepti- 
cal as  to  London  promises ;  and,  besides,  I  doubt  very 
much  if  his  performance  will  be  laudable.  I  wish  you 
would  think  though  if  any  thing  could  be  done  for  him  in 
India,  Ireland,  or  anywhere,  &c. 

Lord  Lauderdale  is  out,*  delightfully  angry  and  pert ; 
but  I  have  scarcely  read  him  through.  Sir  James  Hall 
read  a  paper  two  days  ago  to  the  Royal  Society,  and 
showed  the  result  of  several  curious  Huttonian  experiments. 
He  melted  chalk,  pounded  limestone,  spar,  and  other 
carbonates,  into  substances  very  much  resembling  native 
limestone  and  marble,  by  a  heat  not  exceeding  22°  of 
Wedgewood.  He  has  also  attempted  to  regenerate  coal, 
and  to  manufacture  coal  from  saw-dust  and  horn.  He  has 
sent  his  paper,  I  understand,  to  Nicholson ;  so  you  will 
see  it  by-and-by.  I  think  it  very  curious.  He  means  to 
read  and  publish  a  more  detailed  account  of  the  transac- 
tions in  winter.  Poor  Alison  is  very  ill.  He  has  been 
confined  to  bed  for  these  two  months,  and  Gregory  shakes 
his  head  about  him,  though  they  say  he  is  rather  better. 
Stewart  is  still  in  the  country,  busy  I  hope  with  his  second 
volume.  Playfair,  I  fancy,  is  with  you. 

The  Review  comes  on  very  ill,  or  rather  it  does  not  come 
on  at  all.  I  have  the  mortification  to  see  myself  almost 
deserted,  and  to  feel  myself  extremely  stupid  and  incapa- 
ble of  any  meritorious  exertion.  I  have  done  Richardson's 


*  Out — in  a  pamphlet  in  answer  to  the  Review,  (No.  8,  art  8,)  on  hi» 
book  on  Public  Wealth. 


80  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

letters — tediously,  I  am  afraid,  and  coarsely,  and  nothing 
else.  I  have  read  Barrow,  but  scarcely  made  up  my  mind 
about  him.  I  think  he  is  nearly  right,  but  I  had  always 
a  profound  contempt  for  the  Chineses.  I  suspect  I  shall 
fall  foul  of  them.  Sir  W.  Jones  I  find  is  very  dull  and 
dry.  We  must  be  short,  &c. 

My  dear  Homer — Will  you  take  compassion  upon  me, 
and  rise  five  mornings  at  seven  o'clock,  and  let  me  have 
Malthus  to  begin  with  ?  Upon  my  honour,  I  would  do  that 
for  you,  horribly  as  I  detest  rising,  if  it  would  relieve  you 
Lalf  as  much  as  you  can  do  me.  These  perplexities  really 
take  away  from  my  happiness.  It  would  be  a  very  extra- 
ordinary, and  somewhat  of  a  ridiculous  thing,  if  the  work 
were  to  be  dropped,  while  it  flourishes  as*  it  does  in  sale  ; 
and  yet,  if  I  do  not  get  more  assistance,  it  must  drop,  or 
become  not  worth  keeping  up.  I  did  not  mean  to  tease 
you  with  this,  since  it  only  teases  you ;  but  I  cannot  help 
begging  when  I  am  actually  starving,  beggar-like  as  you 
use  me.  I  missed  Davy  as  he  passed  here.  Indeed,  I  do 
not  find  that  he  saw  anybody  but  the  coterie  at  Dr.  Hope's, 
though  he  did  me  the  honour,  I  find,  to  call,  &c. 

Tell  me  how  your  politics  come  on.  We  never  speak  of 
such  things  here.  Indeed,  I  think  we  are  every  day  get, 
ting  more  into  the  style  of  a  secondary  provincial  town, 
and  losing  both  our  literature  and  our  good  breeding. 
That  is  the  consequence  of  having  so  smooth  a  road  to  Lon- 
don, &c.  I  never  pass  through  York  Place  without  a  little 
pang.* — Ever,  dear  Horner,  most  sincerely  yours. 

45.- — To  Francis  Horner,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  4th  September,  180*. 

My  dear  Horner — This  hot  weather  makes  me  bilious,  i 

suppose  ;  for  I  cannot  get  fairly  to  the  end  of  three  pages 

without  getting  into  bad  humour — even  though  I  rise  in  the 

very  cool  and  blue  of  the  morning  to  give  my  blood  a  fair 

*  Horner  lived  there. 


TO    FRANCIS    IIORNER.  81 

chance  of  coolness.  But  here  has  been  James  Brougham, 
with  his  placid  honest  countenance,  saying  so  many  flat- 
tering and  apologetic  things  of  you,  that  I  once  more 
feel  myself  amiably  disposed,  and  sit  down  to  write  to  you 
in  a  most  Christian  temper  of  charity  and  long-suffering. 

The  most  acceptable  thing  that  fell  from  his  persuasive 
lips  was,  that  you  would  have  no  objection  to  answer  Lau- 
derdale's  pamphlet,  provided  it  appeared  unfit  for  review- 
ing. Now,  it  is  clearly  quite  unfit  for  reviewing.  In  the 
first  place,  it  is  rude  and  impertinent  in  many  places  ;  and 
in  the  second,  the  review  ought  never  to  be  made  a  vehicle 
of  controversy,  as  it  would  soon  be  a  vehicle  for  nothing 
else.  We  speak,  of  course,  as  judges,  and  of  course  must 
leave  the  bench  when  we  are  compelled  to  appear  as  par- 
ties. .  We  could  not  consistently,  or  even  with  due  regard 
to  our  reputation,  affect  to  measure  impartially  the  relative 
merits  of  Lord  Lauderdale  and  of  the  Edinburgh  Review, 
&c.  With  regard  to  answering  the  pamphlet,  however,  I 
urgently  entreat  you  to  do  it,  both  for  Brougham's  sake, 
and  also  in  some  degree  for  your  own  sake,  and  the  sake 
of  the  doctrines  contained  in  that  Review,  for  some  of  which 
I  own  I  feel  a  sort  of  paternal  anxiety.  I  have  had  time 
only  to  run  over  the  said  observations  very  slightly,  but 
from  what  I  have  seen,  I  think  them  all  very  answerable. 
I  am  not  quite  clear  about  the  pensionary  and  the  sinking 
fund  sections,  but  I  have  always  shivered  on  the  brink  of 
those  subjects,  without  venturing  myself  into  their  depths. 
However,  if  you  will  undertake  to  write  an  answer,  I  will 
engage  to  send  you  a  few  notes  on  the  whole  work,  of  which 
you  shall  be  welcome  to  make  as  little  use  as  you  think 
proper.  The  pamphlet  makes  no  great  fame  here,  and 
seems  scarcely  to  be  read  except  by  the  political  auxiliaries 
of  his  lordship.  However,  that  is  no  presumption  against 
it.  For  if  my  Lord  Lauderdale  were  to  write  as  prettily 
as  Ezekiel,  the  Dundassites  would  affect  to  scoff  at  it,  &c. 
— Ever,  my  dear  Homer,  most  sincerely  yours. 


82  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

4C. — To  Francis  Ilorner,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  20th  January,  1805. 

My  dear  Homer — Your  letters  are  always  delightful, 
and  afford  me  more  pleasure  than  any  thing  else  that  I 
read.  I  wish  I  deserved  them  better.  But  I  really  have 
had  no  time  to  write,  and  as  you  are  yourself  the  chief  and 
most  criminal  cause  of  my  hurry,  I  do  not  think  you  have 
any  right  to  impeach  me.  If  you  will  not  write  reviews, 
I  cannot  write  any  thing  else.  This  number  is  out,  thank 
heaven,  without  any  assistance  from  Homer,  Brougham, 
Smith,  Brown,  Allen,  Thomson,  or  any  other  of  those  gal- 
lant supporters  who  voted  their  blood  and  treasure  for  its 
assistance.  Will  you,  or  will  you  not,  do  Malthus  for 
April  ?  Is  it  fair  to  the  Review,  or  kind  to  me,  or  well  for 
yourself,  to  keep  up  an  article  of  this  kind  for  so  enormous 
a  time  ?  &c. 

This  fit  is  over,  however,  and  I  go  on. 

The  Edinburgh  world  does  not  improve,  I  think.  But  it 
does  not  grow  worse.  I  have  great  consolation  in  the  club, 
and  a  thousand  resources  in  Murray.  By  the  bye,  he  has 
been  under  terrible  apprehension  of  gout  for  this  last  fort- 
night. I  tell  him  that  his  career  is  at  an  end,  that  he  shall 
dance  no  more,  but  ought  to  make  up  his  mind  to  flannel 
and  thick  ankles  for  the  sad  residue  of  his  life.  I  do  not 
think  he  has  any  thing  worse  than  a  slight  rheumatism  in 
his  knee ;  but  he  is  very  anxious  and  full  of  precautions. 
Tease  him,  if  you  are  idle  enough,  with  a  long  epistle  of 
condolence,  &c.  I  increase  daily  in  affection  for  Johnny 
Playfair.  He  has  given  me  liberal  and  friendly  assistance 
in  this  last  number,  and  with  so  much  cheerfulness  and 
punctuality,  that  if  you  have  any  proper  conception  of  my 
fury  against  you,  you  may  have  some  notion  of  my  grati- 
tude to  him. 

Murray  and  I  have  a  plan  to  make  all  the  respectable 
part  of  the  bar,  who  are  young  enough  to  be  accessible,  -ac- 


TO   HIS    BROTHER.  83 

quainted  with  each  other,  that  the  good  spirit  which  is  in 
them,  and  which  runs  some  risk  of  being  corrupted,  or 
quelled,  and  overawed,  when  it  is  single,  may  be  strength- 
ened by  communication  and  union,  and  give  to  the  body 
hereafter  something  of  a  higher  and  more  independent 
character  than  it  has  lately  borne,  &c. 

My  dear  Horner — I  am  still  very  painfully  busy,  and 
having,  got  a  bad  habit  of  dining  out,  I  do  not  see  when  I 
am  likely  to  be  at  leisure  again.  But  I  will  write  to  you 
by-and-by,  when  I  am  out  of  debt  to  the  agents.  In  the 
mean  time,  let  me  hear  from  you  frequently,  and  believe  me 
always,  most  sincerely  yours. 

47.—  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  6th  February,  1805. 
My  dear  John — 

I  was  applied  to  a  few  weeks  ago  for  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  you,  which  I  granted  with  great  unwillingness  and 

much  sorrow.  It  was  for  a  Mr. and  his  wife,  who  have 

been  unfortunate  in  Glasgow,  and  are  going  to  try  what 
fortune  will  do  for  them  in  America.  I  know  very  little 
about  the  man,  and  it  is  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  the  wife  that 
I  wish  you  to  do  them  all  the  good  you  can.  I  daresay 
you  remember  her  as  one  of  the  beauties  of  Glasgow.  Her 

name  was ;  and  her  story  is  something  romantic. 

She  was  desperately  in  love  with  a  youth  of  the  name  of 

,  who  went  to  India,  and  died.     Her  father  insisted 

on  her  marrying ,  who  was  then  in  the  way  of  getting 

very  rich.  After  the  death  of  her  true  love  she  complied, 
and  has  been  a  most  exemplary  wife,  even  in  this  land  of 
domestic  virtue.  Her  husband  speculated,  and  was  ruined. 
For  the  last  year  they  have  been  penniless ;  and  the  poor 
girl  has  subsisted  the  whole  family,  in  a  great  measure,  by 
the  labour  of  her  own  innocent  hands ;  has  maintained  an 
heroic  cheerfulness  and  equality  of  temper;  and  agreed, 


84  LIFE   OF   LOKD   JEFFREY. 

* 

without  murmuring,  to  accompany  her  imprudent  husband 
to  a  strange  country,  at  a  distance  from  all  her  friends. 
There  is  more  magnanimity  in  this  than  in  speaking  Julank 
verse  and  swallowing  laudanum.  I  have  seen  very  little  of 
her  for  two  years.  You  will  not  find  her  very  clever  or 
very  accomplished,  but  she  is  a  generous  and  noble-hearted 
woman,  and  one  who  deserves  every  sort  of  assistance. 
I  beg  you  would  not  neglect  them,  &c. — Ever,  my  dear 
John,  most  affectionately  yours. 

&&}  iU      -    !.~*»rt:.  "•ij  \^  SG>i*   '  .'»• 

48. — To  Mrs.  Morehead. 

(Soon  after  his  Wife's  death.) 

Glasgow,  23d  August,  1805. 

My  dearest  Margaret — I  left  you  chiefly  because  I  could 
not  bear  to  burden  your  spirits  with  the  sight  of  my  con- 
tinual misery.  But  I  hope  the  movement  will  do  some 
good  to  my  own  also.  As  yet,  however,  I  cannot  say  that 
I  feel  any  relief.  The  sight  of  this  place  naturally  reminds 
me  of  the  last  visit  I  paid  to  it ;  when  my  darling  was  ex- 
ulting in  the  idea  of  improving  health ;  when  I  saw  her 
dressed  and  smiling,  and  contrasted  her  innocent  raptures 
on  the  journey  to  Inverary ;  and  folded  her  to  my  breast 
with  transport,  when  she  told  me  of  the  pleasure  she  re- 
ceived from  the  praises  of  her  husband's  speeches.  And 
this  is  about  three  months  ago.  It  is  not  so  much  since  I 
saw  her  sitting  affectionately  with  Mainie*  in  this  very 
room,  and  led  her  across  the  street ;  which  I  cannot  look 
back  upon  without  shuddering.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to 
tell  you  how  eagerly  I  seek  after  these  recollections,  and 
how  strongly  they  move  me.  We  had  a  distant  peep  of 
Bothwell  Castle  from  the  road  yesterday,  and  it  brought  to 
my  mind  so  forcibly  the  delightful  visit  we  paid  there,  you 
remember,  mote  than  a  year  ago,  that  I  could  scarcely  per- 
suade myself  I  was  not  actually  looking  down  on  the  river, 

*  His  sister,  Mrs.  Brown. 


TO    MRS.    MOREHEAD.  85 

•with  you  on  one  hand  and  my  Kitty  on  the  other,  with 
nothing  but  spring,  and  life,  and  joy  around  us.  It  was 
the  same  when  we  walked  out  to  Langside  last  night.  You 
remember  when  we  dined  there  first,  before  setting  out  on 
the  expedition,  and  I  saw  my  lamb  walking  stately  on  tho 
lawn,  and  sitting  in  the  garden,  a-nd  looking  from  every 
window  in  the  house.  You  cannot  conceive  what  a  relief 
it  was  to  me,  after  being  in  sight  of  people  all  day,  to  lie 
down  on  that  lawn,  and  weep  my  fill  for  her. 

I  have  nothing  to  tell  you  of  our  adventures.  We  got 
here  about  three  o'clock,  a  good  deal  jostled,  but  quite 
well ;  dined  alone,  and  walked  out  after  dinner  to  see  the 
children  at  the  cottage.  They  are  both  quite  well  too, 
and  much  improved  in  beauty  and  understanding.  Re- 
turned in  the  dusk  ;  went  to  bed  early  ;  slept  a  good  deal, 
and  rose  rather  late.  I  start  half  the  night,  as  I  gene- 
rally do,  in  calling  to  Kitty  to  appear  to  me,  to  let  me 
hear  one  note  of  her  voice,  or  to  give  me  some  token  of 
her  existence  and  continuing  care  for  me.  Sometimes  I 
feel  unaccountably  calmer  after  this,  and  sometimes  quite 
oppressed  and  desponding.  I  have  seen  nobody  to-day 
but  Margaret  Lowdon,  whose  gentleness  and  unaffected 
sorrow  has  soothed  me  more  than  any  thing  since  I  left 
you,  by  drawing  social  tears  from  me.  I  think  my  be- 
loved would  have  been  gratified  with  the  sensibility  with 
which  she  received  her  hair,  and  the  little  memorials  we 
set  aside  for  her.  I  hope  I  have  distributed  these  as  she 
could  have  wished.  The  only  pleasure  I  have  now  upon 
earth  is  in  doing  what  I  think  she  would  have  praised  me 
for.  Almost  the  only  pleasure,  indeed,  I  had  before,  was 
in  receiving  or  anticipating  her  praises.  We  are  to  dine 
at  the  College  to-day.  The  exercise  of  walking  to  it  is 
of  use  to  me,  I  think,  and  there  is  something  soothing  in 
the  solitude  and  quiet  of  the  country.  I  shall  be  back 
with  you  very  soon,  my  dear  Margaret.  Mainie  is  very 
kind,  but,  except  Margaret  Lowdon  and  herself,  there  is 


86  LIFE   «F  LOJID   JEFFREY. 

not  a  creature  here  to  whom  I  could  bear  to  name  her. 
You  are  good  and  gentle,  and  indulgent  and  sincere,  both 
in  your  sympathy,  and  in  your  own  sorrow  and  affection. 
You  always  soothe  me  whenever  you  speak  of  her,  and  by- 
and-by,  perhaps,  I  shall  not  oppress  you  so  much  with  my 
regrets.  There  is  one  thing,  though,  which  I  have  been 
thinking  about,  Margaret;  I  will  not  live  with  you  during 
your  confinement.  I  perceive  that  I  must  crowd  and  dis- 
turb you ;  and  though  your  kindness  overlooks  that,  I 
must  not.  There  is  really  not  room  for  your  mother  and 
nurses,  &c.  ;  and,  by  that  time,  I  am  afraid  that  people 
might  be  coming  about  me  that  would  make  the  scene  still 
more  tumultuous.  Besides,  my  dear  love,  I  am  not  sufe 
that  this  might  not  be  too  much  for  me.  I  have  scarcely 
been  able  to  look  on  young  children  with  composure  for 
these  three  years,  and  in  your  case  the  remembrance  would 
be  too  painful.  I  have  almost  determined  then  to  go  to 
my  own  house,  &c. — Ever,  my  best  Margaret,  most  grate- 
fully and  affectionately  yours. 

49.— To  Charles  Bell,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  21st  January,  1806. 
My  dear  Charles — 

George  tells  me  you  began  to  lecture  last  Saturday,  and 
I  believe  I  am  nearly  as  impatient  as  he  is  to  learn  the 
success  of  your  debut.  But  in  a  place  where  there  is 
so  much  jealousy,  and  intrigue,  and  association,  there  is 
undoubtedly  some  risk  at  the  beginning.  If  you  are  once 
fairly  launched,  you  will  go  on  smoothly.  I  wish  you 
may  be  simple  and  plain  enough  in  your  lectures.  I  think 
I  have  observed  in  your  writings  a  certain  degree  of  con- 
straint and  finery,  which  would  be  much  better  away,  £c. 

George  is  improving  in  industry,  and  rising  daily  in 
reputation.  I  know  no  man  whose  character  is  so  corn- 
el etely  respectable,  whose  heart  is  so  kind,  and  whose 


I 

TO    CHARLES   BELL.  87 

principles  so  honourable  and  steady.  A  certain  degree 
of  constraint  in  his  manners,  and  a  kind  of  irritability 
arising  from  an  excessive  intolerance  for  any  thing  mean 
or  unhandsome,  have  hitherto  kept  his  full  value  from 
being  generally  understood.  These,  however,  are  daily 
diminishing,  and  as  his  increasing  notoriety  brings  him 
more  and  more  into  varied  and  polished  society,  they  will 
disappear  altogether,  and  make  him  as  great  a  favourite 
with  his  new  acquaintances  as  he  has  long  been  with  his 
intimate  friends.  It  is  a  kind  of  ill-breeding,  I  believe,,  to 
talk  to  you  so  much  of  so  near  a  relative ;  but  I  am  as 
proud  of  his  friendship  as  you  are  of  your  relationship, 
and  cannot  refuse  myself  this  gratification. 

I  am  sorry  to  lose  Richardson ;  he  is  gentle  and  kind- 
hearted,  as  those  from  whom  you  would  not  hide  your 
weaknesses,  nor  think  it  necessary  to  disguise  your  affec- 
tions. I  think  you  will  have  considerable  comfort  in  his 
society.  There  is  something  domestic  and  almost  feminine 
in  his  manners  that  must  be  very  soothing  to  one  who  lives 
alone  in  the  hardness  of  male  society. 

I  have  heard  nothing  more  from  you  about  the  drawing 
you  were  kind  enough  to  promise  you  would  again  attempt 
for  me,  and  am  afraid  you  could  make  nothing  of  the  re- 
marks I  sent  you  in  the  former.  Do  not  put  yourself  to 
any  inconvenience,  but  do  not  forget,  my  dear  friend,  a 
promise  upon  which  I  think  hourly.  I  am  very  much  as 
I  was.  My  home  is  terrible  to  me ;  and  I  am  a  great  deal 
in  company.  I  am  gay  there,  and  even  extravagant  as 
usual ;  but  I  pass  sad  nights,  and  have  never  tasted  of 
sweet  sleep  since  my  angel  slept  away  in  my  arms.  I  did 
not  mean  to  distress  you  with  this ;  do  not  think  it  neces- 
sary to  answer  it.  Your  book  is  coining  on,  I  see,  but 
slowly.  It  is  not  perfectly  well  written,  and  wants  sim 
plicity  and  precision.  There  is  an  art  in  this  which  you 
have  not  had-  leisure  to  study,  but  I  will  answer  for  its  suc- 
cess, and  its  deserving  it,  &c. 


* 

88  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

50. —  To  Francis  ITorner,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  Oth  March,  180C. 

My  dear  Homer — Though  I  believe  you  have  still  a 
foolish  letter  of  mine  unanswered,  I  feel  ungrateful  till  I 
I  have  thanked  you  for  your  last  long  and  exemplary  one. 
You  must  not  wonder  at  my  friendship  though ;  for  wonder, 
in  your  philosophic  head,  stands  pretty  near  to  incredulity  ; 
and,  besides,  if  there  is  to  be  any  wondering  in  the  matter, 
I  suspect  it  would  become  me  better  than  you.  I  have 
never  done  you  any  service,  nor,  am  I  afraid,  been  the 
occasion  of  much  gratification  to  you.  In  my  happier  days 
I  ran  some  risk  of  your  contempt,  by  my  levity  and  uncon- 
cern about  the  great  objects  of  your  attention ;  and  lately 
I  have  appeared  weak  and  querulous,  and  have  repaid  your 
kind  and  generous  sympathy  with  something  of  misanthropy 
and  ingratitude.  Yet  I  do  not  doubt  the  least  of  your 
friendship,  nor  does  it  come  into  my  head  to  wonder  at  it. 
On  the  contrary,  I  should  wonder  very  much  if  it  were  now 
to  be  withdrawn.  Your  scheme  of  life  is  admirable ;  but 
when  I  read  it  over  to  Murray,  I  said  you  were  in  more 
danger  of  being  assailed  by  competition  than  you  seemed 
to  be  aware  of.  In  three  days  after,  I  heard  that  you  had 
been  tempted,  and  had  yielded.  I  congratulate  you  heartily 
on  your  nomination,*  and  rejoice  at  it  as  an  earnest  of 
greater  honour,  and  a  pledge  to  yourself  and  your  friends  of 
the  estimation  you  have  already  obtained  with  the  most  dis- 
cerning and  severe  judges  of  merit.  In  some  other  points 
of  viewj  I  am  not  so  sure  that  it  is  to  be  rejoiced  at.  It 
will  interfere,  I  am  afraid,  both  with  your  professional 
advancement,  and  with  your  literary  and  private  pursuits  j 
and  it  has  not  the  splendour,  nor  the  opportunity  for  dis- 
play and  great  public  service,  which  belongs  to  offices  more 
purely  political.  If  you  were  not  so  conscientious,  so  scru- 

*  As  one  of  the  Commissioners  for  the  liquidation  of  the  Nabob  of 
Arcot's  debts. 


TO   FRANCIS   HORXER.  89 

pulous,  and  so  prone  to  laborious  investigation,  I  should  not 
have  so  much  apprehension.  But  these  unhappy  propen- 
sities will  involve  you  in  infinite  labours,  and,  I  am  afraid, 
will  enable  your  new  duties  to  engross  an  alarming  propor- 
tion of  your  time  and  your  exertions.  But  perhaps  I 
mistake  the  nature  of  the  office.  Tell  me  more  about  it 
when  you  have  leisure  to  write.  I  am  afraid  here  is  the 
end  of  your  reviewing,  &c. 

This  leads  me  to  say  something  of  myself.  I  thank  you, 
my  dear  Homer,  a  thousand  times,  for  your  unwearied  and 
affectionate  solicitude,  and  for  the  counsels  and  expostula- 
tions which  soothe  and  gratify  me,  at  least,  by  their  kind- 
ness, though  I  may  not  be  able  to  comply  with  them.  I 
can  never  endure  a  solitary  home,  even  if  it  were  not  a 
desolated  one ;  nor  can  I  perceive  any  motive  for  my  en- 
countering all  these  agonies,  that  I  may  come  to  stupify  in 
dreamy  repose,  instead  of  agitating  myself  with  fretful  and 
frivolous  occupations.  Till  my  affections  can  take  root 
again  and  flourish,  I  can  taste  no  substantial  happiness ; 
and  whatever  cheats  me  of  time  and  recollection  most  effec- 
tually, is  now  the  most  eligible  course  of  life  I  can  follow. 
Do  not  imagine,  however,  from  any  thing  I  may  have  said 
to  you  or  Murray,  that  I  spend  the  whole  of  my  idle  hours 
in  turbulent  and  heartless  society,  for  the  mere  purpose  of 
distraction.  I  do  that,  certainly,  rather  than  spend  them 
alone.  But  there  are  several  families  in  which  I  have  a 
more  suitable  consolation  ;  simple  women,  with  whom.  I  am 
intimate,  and  sweet  children,  by  whom  I  am  beloved,  are 
the  great  instruments  of  my  dissipation ;  and  you  will  not 
easily  persuade  me  that  this  is  not  a  more  wholesome  and 
rational  discipline  for  a  mind  distempered  like  mine,  than 
studies  without  interest,  and  solitude  which  exertion  could 
teach  me  only  to  endure.  Tell  me,  however,  what  you 
would  'have  me  to  do  ?  and  why  ?  I  grow  every  day  more 
familiar  with  these  impressions  as  to  the  insignificance  of 
life,  and  the  absurdity  of  being  much  concerned  about  any 

S* 


90  LIFE   OP  LORD  JEFFREY. 

thing  that  it  presents,  which  have  more  than  once  excited 
your  indignation  already,  so  that  I  am  afraid  we  should  not 
agree  very  well  in  our  premises.  Labour  and  exertion  do 
infinitely  less  for  our  happiness  and  our  virtue  than  you 
stern  philosophers  will  allow  yourselves  to  believe ;  and 
half  the  pains  and  suffering  to  which  we  are  exposed  arise 
from  the  mortification  of  this  ridiculous  self-importance 
which  is  implied  in  all  your  heroic  toils.  This  you  think 
spleen  and  paradox ;  but  it  was  my  creed  before  I  was 
splenetic,  and  a  creed  that  conducted  me  to  happiness. 
And  what,  my  dear  Horner,  are  all  your  labours  for  repu- 
tation, and  distinction,  and  the  esteem  of  celebrated  per- 
sons, but  fatiguing  pastimes,  and  expensive  preparatives 
for  the  indulgence  of  those  affections  that  are  already 
within  your  own  reach.  I  do  think  ambition  a  folly  and  a 
vice,  except  in  a  schoolboy,  and  conceive  it  to  be  evident 
that  it  leads  to  unhappiness,  whether  it  be  gratified  or  dis- 
appointed.— Believe  me  ever,  most  affectionately  yours. 

51. —  To  Mrs.  Morehead. 

Southampton,  1st  September,  1806. 

My  dear  Margaret — I  got  your  kind  letter  at  Ports- 
mouth, on  Thursday,  and  wrote  next  day  to  Bob  a  pretty 
full  account  of  our  journeyings  and  adventures  up  to  that 
date.  We  have  been  ever  since  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
which  we  only  left  this  morning,  and  I  must  now  give  you 
some  further  account  of  our  proceedings.  The  said  isle 
is  very  well  worth  visiting ;  and  I  have  some  hope  of  lead- 
ing you  over  its  beauties  one  day  when  I  am  rich  and  idle 
and  happy.  On  the  side  next  the  mainland,  it  is  finely 
wooded  and  swelled  into  smooth  hills,  and  divided  by  broad 
friths  and  inlets  of  various  and  fantastical  appearance. 
But  the  chief  beauty,  I  think,  lies  on  the  south,  where  -it 
opens  to  the  wide  ocean,  and  meets  a  warmer  sun  than 
shines  upon  any  other  spot  of  our  kingdom.  On  this 
side,  it  is,  for  the  most  part,  bounded  by  lofty  chalk  cliffs, 


TO   MRS.    MOREHEAD.  91 

•which  rise,  in  the  most  dazzling  whiteness,  out  of  the  blue 
sea  into  the  blue  sky,  and  make  a  composition  something 
like  Wedgewood's  enamel.  The  cliffs  are  in  some  places 
enormously  high ;  from  600  to  700  feet.  The  beautiful 
places  are  either  where  they  sink  deep  into  bays  and  val- 
leys, opening  like  a  theatre  to  the  sun  and  the  sea,  or 
where  there  has  been  a  terrace  of  low  land  formed  at  their 
feet,  which  stretches  under  the  shelter  of  that  enormous 
wall,  like  a  rich  garden-plot,  all  roughened  over  with 
masses  of  rock,  fallen  in  distant  ages,  and  overshadowed 
with  thickets  of  myrtle,  and  roses,  and  geraniums,  which 
all  grow  wild  here  in  great  luxuriance  and  profusion. 
These  spots  are  occupied,  for  the  most  part,  by  beautiful, 
ornamented  cottages,  designed  and  executed,  for  the  most 
part,  in  the  most  correct  taste.  Indeed,  it  could  not  be 
easy  to  make  any  thing  ugly  in  a  climate  so  delicious, 
where  all'sorts  of  flowers,  and  shrubs,  and  foliage  multiply 
and  maintain  themselves  with  such  vigour  and  rapidity. 
The  myrtles  fill  all  the  hedges,  and  grapes  grow  in  fes- 
toons from  tree  to  tree,  without  the  assistance  of  a  wall. 
To  the  west,  the  land  rises  into  lofty  and  breezy  downs, 
and  at  the  extreme  point  the  land  has  been  worn  down,  by 
the  violence  of  the  sea,  into  strange  detached  fragments  of 
white  rock,  which  people  call  needles,  and  come  a  long  labo- 
rious way  to  see.  They  are  the  only  ugly  things  upon  the 
island.  We  walked  a  great  deal  here,  and  saw  every  thing 
at  our  leisure,  by  sunlight  and  moonlight,  alone  and  in  a 
body.  I  had  many  delightful  reveries,  which  I  shall  one 
day  dilate  to  you ;  but  at  present  I  am  scribbling  with  all 
possible  rapidity  in  order  to  save  the  post,  which  goes  out 
almost  immediately.  We  crossed,  this  morning,  to  Lyming- 
tori,  and  came  here  through  the  New  Forest.  This  is  a 
fine  scene,  too,  and  the  last  of  the  fine  scenes  I  believe  I 
shall  see  in  England ;  fine  oak  wood,  spread  over  rough, 
uneven  country  for  thirty  miles,  opening,  every  now  and 
then,  into  fine,  open,  pastoral  villages,  and  broken  by 


(J2  LITE   OF  LORD   JEFFREY. 

heathy  mountains  and  the  windings  of  a  broad  arm  of  the 
sea ; — the  clay  hot  and  still,  mostly  cloudy,  but  with  spots 
and  streams  of  yellow  sunshine  falling  upon  the  remote 
and  prominent  parts  of  the  deep  woody  circle,  and  con- 
trasting with  the  blue  vapoury  appearance  of  that  distance 
which  remained  in  shade.  I  am  going,  after  the  vicar 
rises,  to  see  Netley  Abbey,  which  is  said  to  be  the  finest 
view  in  England.  To-morrow  we  proceed  to  Windsor, 
and  on  Wednesday  to  London.  I  set  out  for  Scotland,  I 
think,  positively  on  Monday  the  8th ;  and  as  I  propose  to 
come  in  the  mail,  I  shall  be  in  Edinburgh  on  Thursday  or 
Friday  morning.  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kind  and 
compassionate  offer  of  coming  to  receive  me ;  but  I  think 
I  shall  arrive  early  in  the  morning,  before  you  are  out  of 
bed.  However,  I  shall  write  to  you  again,  when  I  have 
finally  fixed  on  my  movements.  You  must  not  write  to 
me  in  answer  to  this,  as  I  shall  not  stay  to  receive  it ;  but 
I  hope  you  have  already  written  to  me.  Heaven  bless 
you,  and  reward  you  for  your  kindness  to  me,  &c. — Believe 
ine  always  most  affectionately  yours. 

52. — To  Francis  Homer,  Esq.        ^ 

Edinburgh,  18th  September,  1800. 

My  dear  Homer — I  wish  I  had  something  to  say  worth 
your  listening  to.  But  my  views  coincide  entirely  with 
yours  as  to  general  points,  and  they  are  quite  as  little  ma- 
tured with  reference  to  immediate  action.  I  can  assure 
you,  however,  that  I  am  not  indifferent  or  inattentive  to 
what  is  now  going  on,  and  that  it  requires  a  very  frequent 
recurrence  to  the  principles  of  my  philosophy,  and  many 
recollections  of  my  own  utter  impotence,  to  prevent  me 
from  surprising  you  with  my  ardour.  It  is  easy  to  see 
what  ought  to  be  done,  and  not  difficult  to  inflame  one's  self 
with  the  contemplation  of  it.  But  when  we  come  to  the 
ways  and  means  of  carrying  it  into  effect,  I  own  I  have 
never  yet  been  able  to  discover  the  slightest  ground  for 


TO   FRANCIS   BORDER.  93 

confidence  or  hope,  and  conclude,  therefore,  that  my  af- 
fections might  be  more  wisely  placed  on  objects  that  are 
more  attainable  at  least,  if  they  are  less  exalted.  I  agree 
with  you  entirely  in  thinking  that  there  is  in  the  opulence, 
intelligence,  and  morality  of  our  middling  people  a  sufficient 
quarry  of  materials  to  make  or  to  repair  a  free  constitution  ; 
but  the  difficulty  is  in  raising  them  to  the  surface.  The 
best  of  them  meddle  least  with  politics  ;  and,  except  as  jury- 
men or  justices  of  peace,  they  exercise  scarcely  any  in- 
fluence upon  the  public  proceedings  of  the  society.  The 
actual  government  of  the  country  is  carried  on  by  some- 
thing less,  I  take  it,  than  200  individuals,  who  are  rather 
inclined  to  believe  that  they  may  do  any  thing  they  please, 
so  long  as  the  more  stirring  part  of  the  community  can  be 
seduced  by  patronage,  and  the  more  contemplative  by  their 
love  of  ease  and  their  dread  of  violence  and  innovation. 
You  must  falsify  the  premises  of  this  reasoning  by  a  great 
moral  reform  before  you  can  challenge  the  conclusion.  You 
must  make  our  adventurers  and  daring  spirits  more  honest, 
and  our  honest  and  intelligent  men  more  daring  and  am- 
bitious ;  or,  rather,  you  must  find  out  some  channel  through 
which  the  talent  and  principle  of  the  latter  may  be  brought 
to-  bear  upon  the  actual  management  of  affairs,  and  may 
exert  its  force  in  controlling  or  directing  the  measures  of 
government  in  some  more  efficient  way  than  in  discoursing 
in  private  companies,  or  lamenting  in  epistles.  This  is  the 
problem.  There  is  a  great  partition  set  up  between  the 
energy  that  is  to  save  the  country  and  the  energy  that  is 
to  destroy  it ;  the  latter  alone  is  in  action,  and  the  other 
cannot  get  through  to  stop  it.  I  scarcely  see  any  thing 
but  a  revolution,  or  some  other  form  of  violence,  that  can 
beat  down  the  ancient  and  ponderous  barrier.  Show  me 
how  this  great  work  is  to  be  accomplished,  and  you  will 
find  me  as  zealous,  and  more  active  than  any  of  you..  You 
fine  wits  of  London  are  not  the  people,  nor  are  you  the 
persons  to  stir  them.  You  have  too  much  personal  am- 


94  LIFB  OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

bition,  too  much  refined  philosophy,  too  much  habitual  dis- 
sipation, and  a  great  deal  too  much  charity  and  indulgence 
for  idleness,  profligacy,  and  profusion,  to  project  or  execute 
such  a  project  if  it  were  practicable.  I  speak  of  you  in 
the  mass.  You  are  not  one  of  them.  You  try  to  persuade 
yourself  that  you  are  Londonized,  and  that  it  is  right  to  be 
so.  But  you  are  mistaken.  .  It  will  take  you  six  idle  win- 
ters  to  bring  you  down  to  that  level.  But,  in  truth,  I  do 
not  think  the  scheme  practicable  by  any  set  of  persons. 
The  antiquity  of  our  government,  to  which  we  are  indebted 
for  so  many  advantages,  brings  this  great  compensating 
evil  along  with  it ;  there  is  an  oligarchy  of  great  families — 
borough-mongers  and  intriguing  adventurers — that  mono- 
polizes all  public  activity,  and  excludes  the  mass  of  ordi- 
nary men  nearly  as  much  as  the  formal  institutions  of  other 
countries.  How  can  you  hope  to  bring  the  virtues  of  the 
people  to  bear  on  the  vices  of  the  government,  when  the 
only  way  in  which  a  patriot  can  approach  to  the  scene  of 
action  is  by  purchasing  a  seat  in  Parliament  ?  A  correct 
view  of  our  actual  constitution,  I  have  often  thought,  would 
be  a  curious  thing,  and  a  careful  examination  of  it  ought, 
at  all  events,  to  precede  any  attempt  at  reform. 

These  are  some  of  my  general  views,  and  you  see  they 
lead  naturally  to  that  apathy  and  apparent  indifference  in 
which  other  circumstances  have  led  me  to  indulge.  You 
must  not  sneer  any  more,  however,  at  my  philosophy.  I 
could  give  you  a  key  to  it  that  would  move  your  pity  rather 
than  your  derision.  My  mind  is  diseased,  I  know,  and  I 
rather  think  incurably.  However,  I  am  sometimes  tempted 
to  pluck  up  a  spirit,  and  to  say,  like  the  old  Roman  con- 
spirator who  came  on  the  stage  in  his  nightcap,  "I  am  not 
sick,  if  you  have  any  business  that  is  worth  being  well  for." 
But  these  would  be  but  big  words,  I  fear,  and  I  will  not 
say  tljem  yet.  Whatever  I  may  think  of  remote  conse- 
quences, I  can  have  no  doubt  as  to  the  conduct  which  the 
friends  of  Mr.  Fox  ought  now  to  adopt.  They  cannot  hope 


m 

TO   FRANCIS    UORXER.  95 

to  form  a  ministration  of  themselves,  and  they  must  either 
unite  with  the  Grenvilles,  or  see  the  Hawkesburys  and 
Castlereaghs  unite  with  them.  I  do  not  think  exactly  as 
you  do  as  to  the  utter  dissolution  of  the  Whig  interest.  I 
hope  it  will  generate  a  new  head  for  itself,  as  the  snails  do, 
instead  of  dying  when  the  old  one  is  cut  off.  The  bees  con- 
trive somehow  to  make  a  queen  when  the  place  becomes 
vacant,  and  are  you  less  political  animals  than  they  ? 
Look  about  among  your  political  infants,  and  you  will  dis- 
cover a  new  incarnation  of  the  larvae.  It  is  difficult  to  kill 
the  soul  of  a  party.  And  have  not  your  old  studies  taught 
you  that  the  demand  will  insure  the  supply  ?  I  never  had 
any  hope  of  Mr.  Fox's  recovery,  and  wondered  at  those 
who  had.  It  is  very  deplorable.  Is  he  to  be  buried  with 
public  honours  ?  I  think  not.  I  have  written  all  this  with- 
out a  word  of  reviewing,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  I  am  as 
sick  of  the  subject  as  you  can  be,  &c. — Very  affectionately 
yours. 

53. —  To  Francis  Homer,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  25th  November,  1806. 

My  dear  Horner — 

I  have  said  nothing  all  this  time  to  your  charge  of 
calumny. — I  call  you  a  political  adventurer,  it  seems,  and 
a  place  hunter,  at  least  I  think  you  so.  I  never  heard 
such  raving  in  my  life  before,  and  am  much  more  inclined 
to  laugh  than  be  angry.  I  thought  you  had  known  my 
opinion  of  you  something  better.  But  since  you  are  so 
miserably  ignorant,  I  must  tell  it  you,  I  find,  whatever 
offence  it  may  give  to  your  modesty.  I  do  not  think  there 
is  anybody  alive,  except  perhaps  myself,  who  despises  more 
heartily  the  emoluments  of  office,  or  the  personal  awards 
of  political  services.  I  could  never  for  a  moment  either 
say  or  suspect  that  these  things  weighed  one  grain^in  your 
calculation,  or  dictated  one  action,  or  one  meditation  of 


96  LIFK   Off   LORD   .11.1  I  i;KY. 

your  heart.  But  every  man  has  some  objects,  and  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  think  are  yours ; — first,  to  do  some  good, 
to  make  society  and  posterity  your  debtors,  to  be  a  bene- 
factor to  mankind ;  next,  to  cultivate  and  improve  your 
own  mind,  to  acquire  a  just  relish  for  excellence,  and  to 
familiarize  yourself  with  all  the  accomplishments  that  make 
a  lofty  and  amiable  character.  After  those,  I  think  your 
object  is  to  be  known  for  those  merits;  to  enjoy  the  con- 
sideration, the  gratitude,  the  confidence,  that  must  belong 
to  such  a  being.  Those  are  the  things  for  which  you 
labour  and  task  yourself.  You  have  other  objects  of  course, 
but  they  are  attainable  on  easier  terms,  and  the  pursuit  of 
them  will  never  mark  your  destiny.  You  would  wish  to  be 
loved  in  private  life,  and  to  be  tranquil  and  amiable  in 
domestic  society;  last  of  all,  you  would  choose  to  be  rich, 
partly  for  independence,  partly  for  beneficence,  and  partly 
for  vanity. . '  This  is  about  the  scale  by  which  I  arrange 
the  things  that  seem  good  to  you  in  this  world  ;  and,  right 
or  wrong,  you  will  judge  whether  it  will  suit  a  political 
adventurer. 

But  I  say  you  will  desert  your  profession,  and  I  prog- 
nosticate that  politics  will  engross  you.  Well,  I  do ;  and 
if  you  will  only  have  patience,  you  will  soon  see  and  feel 
what  I  mean.  It  is  not  always  convenient  for  a  prophet 
to  explain  his  predictions,  but  your  perversity  provokes 
one  to  run  this  hazard.  Will  you  let  me  say  that  I  smile 
with  a  little  incredulity  when  you  assure  me,  with  that 
virtuous  earnestness,  that  you  are  attached  to  your  profes- 
sion/or its  own  sake  ?  What !  special  pleading,  wrangling 
at  circuits,  quibbling,  suppressing  scorn  for  villanous  attor- 
neys, sleeping  over  cases  !  No,  my  dear  Homer,  you  have 
a  much  better  taste.  You  do  not  love  your  profession  for 
its  own  sake ;  and  if  you  had  .£10,000  a  year,  you  would 
as  soon  think  of  a  curacy.  Then,  it  is  for  the  money. 
Independence — that  is  very  right ;  but  I  say  it  is  neither 
first  in  your  list,  nor  is  it  attainable  by  law  alone.  In  the 


TO    FRAXCIS    1IORNER.  97 

first  place,  by  independence  you  mean  riches — something 
about  .£2000  a  year.  You  are  in  no  actual  danger  of 
starving,  nor  is  it  a  matter  of  necessity  for  you  to  get  this, 
it  is  ambition,  and  I  tell  you  it  is  not  your  first  ambition. 
Your  leading  objects  are  to  do  good — to  improve  yourself 
— to  acquire  consideration.  Now,  do  you  really  think 
that  it  is  altogether  and  entirely  impossible  that  you  should 
discover,  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two,  that  you  can  do 
more  good,  and  gain  more  fame  and  improvement,  by  de- 
voting yourself  to  political  pursuits,  than  by  drudging  on 
in  the  more  obscure  and  irksome  occupation  of  a  Chancery 
lawyer  ?  It  is  a  part  of  my  prophecy,  you  will  observe, 
that  you  will  find  yourself  of  more  consequence  than  you 
are  now  aware  of,  and  that  you  will  feel,  by-and-by,  that 
you  would  not  only  be  defrauding  yourself  of  the  destina- 
tion to  which  you  are  entitled,  but  the  public  also  of  services 
— which  are  always  owing  by  those  who  have  the  power  to 
perform  them — by  declining  the  tasks  that  are  put  upon 
ydu,  or  withdrawing  yourself  from  the  duties  which  you 
will  find  gathering  round  you.  This  is  what  I  meant 
when  I  said  your  vocation  was  for  public  life.  Not  that 
you  had  a  taste  for  the  dirty  work  of  a  political  under- 
ling, or  a  thirst  for  the  dirt  which  buys  them  ;•  and  I  ex- 
horted you  not  to  struggle  against  your  destiny.  I  do 
assure  you  not  because  I  saw  in  you  the  features  of  a  good 
tool  for  a  ministry,  but  because  it  appeared  to  me  that  you 
were  sitting  down  at  the  second  table  when  you  had  been 
unequivocally  invited  to  the  first.  If  my  premises  are 
right,  you  cannot  dispute  my  conclusions;  and  it  is  enough 
for  my  justification  that  I  believe  them  to  be  right.  But 
I  care  very  little  about  my  justification  ;  for  I  am  sure  you 
can  never  believe,  in  earnest,  that  I  ever  entertained  any 
opinion  with  regard  to  you  that  was  not  full  of  affection 
and  esteem. 

But  I  should  like  to  say  something  for  your  conviction 
also,  and  make  you  think  my  opinion  not  only  not  injurious 

VOL.  II.— 9  G 


98  LIFE   OF   LOUD   JEFFREY. 

to  you,  but  not  unreasonable.  I  can  see  no  motive,  how- 
ever, for  your  sacrificing  the  promise  of  your  political 
career  to  your  profession,  but  that  you  are  surer  of  making 
a  regular  income  by  the  latter — a  very  weighty  considera- 
tion, but  not  quite  suited  to  the  lofty  view  in  which  you 
speak  of  it.  It  is  not  high  principle  or  noble  consistency, 
then,  my  dear  Homer,  but  vulgar  worldly  prudence,  that 
determines  you  to  this  preference.  I  say  nothing  in  dis- 
paragement of  prudence.  But  what  should  we  have  said 
of  the  prudence  that  would  have  kept  Pitt  at  the  bar,  or 
driven  Fox  to  have  repaired  his  fortune  at  Westminster 
Hall  ?  I  believe  you  are  richer  than  either  of  these  men, 
and  you  have  better  notions  of  accuracy.  Cure  yourself 
of  avarice,  then,  or  a  selfish  vulgar  desire  of  the  vanities 
and  accommodations  of  upper  life,  and  you  may  be  inde- 
pendent without  grating  down  your  faculties  in  the  obscure 
drudgery  of  your  professsion.  You  need  not  live  at  any 
great  expense  till  you  are  a  minister  of  state,  and  then  we 
will  supply  you  with  the  means.  In  the  mean  time,  if  you 
contract  no  debt,  you  will  have  your  Carnatic  allowance  to 
make  a  little  fund  of— call  that  £6000  or  £7000.  Then,  I 
suppose  you  will  not  be  so  absurd  as  to  refuse  an  office  in 
which  you  may  do  important  service  to  the  public,  because 
there  may  be  a  salary  annexed  to  it  ? 

While  your  party  is  in  power,  you  cannot,  I  think,  be 
very  long  without  the  offer  of  some  such  efficient  ill-paid 
situation ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  calculate  the  chances  very 
largely  when  I  say,  that,  with  a  proper  exertion  of  econo- 
my, and  love  of  independence,  you  may  save  £10,000,  and 
more  in  a  few  years.  Your  father,  I  suppose,  will  give  or 
leave  you  something  ;  so  that  altogether  I  have  made  you 
up  an  independent  fortune  of  £1000  a  year  upon  very  easy 
terms.  While  you  remain  unmarried  you  must  learn  to  live 
upon  that,  and  you  will  not  marry  in  a  hurry.  If  your 
party  remains  long  in  power,  you  will  soon  get  beyond  all 
this.  But  I  take  the  chances  most  unfavourably ;  and  I 


TO   FRANCIS   HORNER.  99 

say  that  even  if  you  were  to  return  to  the  bar  after  having 
lost  three  or  four  years  (as  the  profession  will  call  it)  in 
Parliament,  the  reputation  you  will  have  acquired,  and  the 
connections  you  will  have  formed,  will  insure  you  employ- 
ment enough  to  indemnify  you  for  this  vacation,  and  that 
if  it  be  somewhat  less  extensive,  it  will  be  more  select  and 
agreeable  than  if  you  had  crept  forward  on  your  belly, 
eating  dust  in  the  clamour  of  your  halls  of  justice. 

After  all,  why  should  you  not  venture  a  little  ?  You  are 
in  no  danger  of  being  miserably  poor ; — you  can  always 
command  an  independence,  (in  my  humble  philosophical 
sense  of  the  word ;)  and  when  that  is  the  case  I  would 
obey  the  call  of  duty  and  the  impulse  of  my  own  ambition, 
although  I  did  expose  to  some  hazard  my  prospect  of  grow- 
ing gradually  and  certainly  rich.  I  am  anxious,  I  have 
often  told  you,  to  see  you  given  up  to  politics.  We  have 
need  of  you  there.  We  can  do  very  well  without  you  at 
the  bar.  There  is  a  deplorable  want  of  young  senators 
with  zeal  for  liberty,  and  liberal  and  profound  views  as  to 
the  real  interests  of  mankind.  The  world  is  going  to  ruin 
for  want  of  them ;  and  shall  we  quietly  permit  the  few  that 
are  gifted  with  talents  and  virtues  to  serve  the  need  of 
civilized  and  moralized  men,  to  sneak  away  from  that  high 
duty  because  they  can  fill  their  purses,  and  furnish  their 
houses,  more  certainly  by  drudging  at  some  low  employ- 
ment ? 

I  write  all  this  to  you,  my  dear  Horner,  very  sincerely. 
I  know  you  will  disclaim  this  character  as  warmly  as  you 
did  that  you  dreamed  I  gave  you.  But  I  must  judge  of 
you  for  myself;  and  I  predict  that  the  world  will  one  day 
think  of  you  as  I  do  now,  and  as  I  have  long  done.  You 
would  have  disbelieved  me  equally,  if  I  had  predicted  four 
years  ago,  when  you  went,  an  unknown  lad,  to  London, 
that  by  this  time  you  would  have  forced  yourself  into  the 
legislature  in  the  most  honourable  and  commanding  way, 
by  the  mere  force  of  character — without  a  shadow  of  sub- 


100  LIFE   OF  LORD   JEFFREY. 

serviency,  or  even  an  opportunity  of  public  display.  I  did 
predict  this  at  the  time,  and  yet  you  mock  at  my  prophe- 
cies now.  Oh  thou  of  little  faith  !  I  think  you  have  great 
talents  for  public  life,  and  great  virtues,  which  should  be 
displayed  there  for  correction  and  example.  I  have  begun 
lately  to  think  that  you  had  not  such  qualifications  for  a 
lawyer.  You  cannot  work  regularly  and  constantly,  nor 
without  anxiety  and  preparation.  Your  work  would  be  an 
infinite  oppression  to  you.  It  would  suffocate  you  before 
it  rose  to  £3000  a  year.  You  must  not  take  it  amiss 
that  I  tell  you  this.  Indeed,  I  am  not  over  and  above 
sure  of  the  truth  of  the  sentiment,  and  I  will  confess 
it  never  occurred  to  me  till  I  had  settled  it  with  myself, 
that  it  would  be  a  public  misfortune  and  a  private  blunder 
if  you  were  to  abandon  politics  for  law.  Have  I  wearied 
you  with  all  this  ?  The  length  of  it,  however,  will  convince 
you  that  I  am  not  quite  so  indifferent  about  you  as  you 
accuse  me  of  being.  Indeed,  there  is  nobody  upon  earth 
in  whom  I  am  more  interested,  and  few  things  that  I  de- 
sire so  earnestly  as  your  happiness  and  advancement. 

I  thank  you  for  your  concern  about  me.  I  am  tole- 
rably well.  I  do  not  keep  late  hours,  and  I  indulge  no 
anxiety.  It  is  my  misfortune  that  I  have  nothing  to  be 
anxious  about.  You  must  forgive  me  for  not  being  in 
raptures  with  London  and  London  people ;  and  for  think- 
ing that  the  best  is,  for  the  most  part,  so  little  above  the 
ordinary,  that  for  common  occasion  it  is  scarcely  at  all 
preferable,  and  is  only  sought  after  from  vanity.  The 
whole  game  of  life  appears  to  me  a  little  childish,  and  the 
puppets  that  strut  and  look  lofty  very  nearly  as  ludicrous 
as  those  that  value  themselves  on  their  airs  and  graces — 
poor  little  bits  of  rattling  timber — to  be  jostled  in  a  bag  as 
soon  as  the  curtain  drops.  I  do  not  see  very  much  to 
condemn  in  my  own  way  of  life.  I  fancy  it  very  natural 
and  rational.  If  it  be^not  very  happy  it  is  not  my  fault. 
God  bless  you,  my  dear  Homer. — Very  faithfully  yours, 

F.  JEFFREY. 


TO    IIIS    BROTHER.  101 

The  learned  Dr. of  St.  Andrews  has  nine  grown- 
up daughters,  and  a  salary  of  .£90.  They  have  nearly 
ruined  him  for  potatoes.  But  three  of  them  have  lately 
gone  to  try  their  fortunes  as  dress-makers  in  London,  and 
fixed  themselves  in  No.  3  Jermyn  Street.  I  was  very 
much  amused  by  their  extreme  simplicity  when  they  were 
with  my  sister,  Mrs.  Morehead,  on  their  way  to  town.  I 
am  afraid  they  have  but  a  poor  chance  of  success.  Could 
you  persuade  Mrs.  Homer,  out  of  nationality,  to  give 
them  any  patronage  ?  or  Mrs.  L.  Homer  ?  or  my  dear 
Mrs.  Smith  ?  One  of  them  served  a  regular  apprentice- 
ship in  town,  and  they  are  very  good  girls.  Do  not 
despise  this.  It  is  really  worth  while  to  try  to  make 
people  happy.  Did  you  ever  send  the  books  we  spoke  of 
to  poor  little  David  Wilson  ?  He  will  sell  them,  I  dare- 
say, but  no  matter. 

54.—  To  Mr.  John  Jeffrey. 

Edinburgh,  28th  January,  1807. 

My  dear  John-^-I  received  your  first  melancholy  letter* 
about  a  month  ago,  and  my  first  movement  was  naturally 
to  write  to  you  without  a  moment's  delay.  I  did  so  ac- 
cordingly, but  upon  considering  your  letter  to  my  father, 
in  which  you  seemed  to  speak  so  decidedly  of  your  imme- 
diate departure  from  America,  I  threw  my  letter  into  the 
fire,  and  was  glad  to  gain  a  little  respite  from  the  task  of 
so  distressing  a  conversation.  I  have  just  received  your 
last  letter,  and  regret  now  that  I  did  not  send  off  my 
former.  It  will  be  so  long  now  before  you  can  hear  from 
me,  that  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  negligent ;  yet  I 
assure  you  I  have  thought  of  little  else  since  I  first  heard 
of  this  dreadful  affliction. 

How  keenly  and  how  painfully  I  feel  for  you,  you  may 
judge  from  the  cruel  similarity  of  our  fortunes,  even  if 
there  were  no  deeper  sympathy  in  our  characters.  The 

*  Announcing  the  denth  of  his  (John's)  wife. 
9* 


102  LIFE   OF    LOUD  JEFFREY. 

pain  I  have  felt,  indeed,  is  not  so  properly  sympathy,  as 
a  renewal  of  my  own  afflictions.  If  I  had  found  any  ef- 
fectual comfort  myself,  this  might  enable  me  to  lead  you 
to  it  also ;  but  I  do  think  your  loss  irreparable,  and  I 
mourn  for  you  as  well  as  for  myself.  I  found  no  consola- 
tion in  business,  and  nothing  but  new  sources  of  agony  in 
success.  The  ear  is  closed  in  which  alone  I  wished  my 
praises  to  be  sounded,  and  the  prosperity  I  should  have 
earned  with  such  pride  for  her,  and  shared  with  her  with 
such  delight,  now  only  reminds  me  of  my  loneliness.  I 
have  found  one  consolation,  however,  and  that  is  in  the 
love  and  society  of  those  whom  she  loved  and  lived  with. 
Her  sister,  I  think  I  told  you,  married  Robert  Morehead, 
and  is  settled  here.  I  am  continually  with  her,  and  de- 
pend upon  her  love  and  confidence  in  me  for  all  the  enjoy- 
ment I  have  still  in  existence.  She  loves  me  with  the 
warmest  and  most  unbounded  affection,  and  while  I  can 
be  with  her,  I  can  still  open  my  heart  to  sweet  and  sooth- 
ing sensations.  In  living  with  her  friends,  and  doing 
what  I  think  would  have  gained  her  praise,  I  sometimes 
find  a  faint  shadow  of  the  happiness  which  I  enjoyed  in 
her  presence.  I  can  give  you  no  .other  advice,  and  there- 
fore I  am  glad  that  you  have  not  so  soon  quitted  the 
scene  in  which  you  were  accustomed  to  see  your  darling, 
and  come  at  once  among  people  to  whom  she  was  un- 
known. You  will  not  lov'e  us,  I  am  afraid,  because  we  did 
not  know  your  Susan,  and  because  her  idea  is  not  con- 
nected in  your  mind  with  any  of  our  concerns,  &c. 

I  hope  that  even  at  present  you  do  not  indulge  in  soli- 
tude. I  never  had  courage  for  it,  and  was  driven,  I  think, 
by  a  cruel  instinct,  into  the  company  of  strangers,  £c. 

Come  and  find  me  as  affectionate,  and  unreserved,  and 
domestic,  as  you  knew  me  in  our  more  careless  days.  I 
think  I  shall  be  able  to  comfort  you,  and  revive  in  you 
some  little  interest  in  life,  though  I  cannot  undertake  to 
restore  that  happiness  which,  I  am  afraid,  when  once  cut 


TO   PBANCIS   HORXER.  103 

down,  revives  not  in  this  world.  If  I  knew  when  you 
would  arrive,  I  think  I  should  like  to  meet  you  in  London, 
that  is,  if  it  be  from  March  to  May.  I  shall  probably  be 
there  at  any  rate.  Do  not  neglect  to  let  me  know  before 
you  set  out. 

I  work  at  the  Review  still,  and  might  make  it  a  source 
of  considerable  emolument,  if  I  set  any  value  on  money. 
But  I  am  as  rich  as  I  want  to  be,  and  should  be  distressed 
with  more,  at  least  if  I  were  to  work  more  for  it. 

55. — To  Francis  Homer,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  10th  September,  1808. 

My  dear  Homer — We  Scotch  lawyers  are  much  happier 
in  vacation  time  than  you  in  England;  inasmuch  .as  your 
letter,  written  from  Taunton  on  the  circuit,  came  to  me  at 
Arroquhar,  in  Argyleshire,  where  I  was  enjoying  an  ease, 
and  a  solitude,  and  a  carelessness,  of  which  you  followers 
of  assizes,  I  suppose,  must  soon  lose  all  recollection.  I 
thank  you  heartily,  however,  for  that  letter;  and,  being 
now  returned  to  a  region  of  posts  and  stationery,  I  endea- 
vour to  bring  my  hand  into  acquaintance  with  penmanship 
again  by  saying  something  to  you  in  return. 

I  have  almost  forgotten  my  review  of  Fox ;  but  I  am 
extremely  glad  if  it  has  given  you  any  satisfaction.  I 
remember  the  sentence  for  which  you  triumph  over  me, 
and  actually  put  it  in,  in  that  form,  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  you  that  triumph.  But  I  am  not  at  all  converted. 
I  merely  used  the  language  of  the  occasion.  As  to  the 
style  of  Mr.  Fox's  book,  I  suppose  I  have  disappointed 
you.  I  do  not  think  there  are  any  felicities  in  it.  It  is 
often  unequivocally  bad,  and  when  it  is  best,  there  is  little 
more  to  be  said  than  that  it  is  nothing  particularly  objec- 
tionable. The  History  of  the  Revolution,  you  see,  is  re- 
served by  fate  for  you,  &c. 

Brougham  has  been  in  Edinburgh  for  some  time ;  but 
has  been  but  rarely  visible  on  this  horizon.  I  expect 


104  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Smith  hourly.  Murray  is  rusticating,  after  his  own  fantas- 
tical manner,  at  Burntisland.  Playfair  is  oscillating  all 
round  Edinburgh;  und  the  incorrigible  Thomson,  still  let- 
ting his  watch-tower  light  be  seen  in  Castle  Street,  to  the 
corruption  of  the  whble  vicinage,  &c. — Ever  most  affec- 
tionately yours. 

56.— To  Mr.  Malthus. 

21st  April,  1809. 

My  dear  Sir — I  have  just  read  your  review  of  Newen- 
ham.  It  is  admirable;  and  to  my  taste  and  feelings  beau- 
tiful and  irresistible.  I  feel  a  great  degree  of  pride  in 
saying  that  the  manly  and  temperate  tone  of  your  patriot- 
ism— the  plain  and  enlightened  benevolence  of  your  views 
— as  far  removed  from  faction  and  caprice,  as  from  servility 
or  affectation — are  more  consonant  to  my  own  sentiments 
and  impressions  than  any  thing  I  have  yet  met  with  in  the 
writings  of  my  contributors.  I  honour,  and  almost  envy, 
you  for  the  dignity  and  force  of  your  sentiments,  and  feel 
new  pleasure  in  the  thought  of  being  soon  permitted  to  see 
you.  I  think  I  shall  set  out  from  this  on  Sunday  in  the 
mail ;  and  expect  to  be  with  you  some  time  early  on  Wed- 
nesday. I  must  be  in  London,  I  fear,  on  Thursday  even- 
ing, but  we  shall  see. — Believe  me  ever,  dear  sir,  your 
very  faithful  and  obliged. 

57. — To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  22d  December,  1809. 

My  dear  Allen — Unless  you  knew  the  horrors  of  drudg- 
ing in  two  courts  in  this  plashy  weather,  you  can  form  no 
conception  of  the  misery  in  which  I  have  lived  since  I 
wrote  you  last,  or  of  the  difficulty  I  find  in  catching  an 
hour  to  write  to  anybody.  Your  Laborde  is  admirable, 
not  only  for  its  unexampled  accuracy  and  clearness,  which 
are  invaluable  graces  in  such  a  Review  as  ours,  but  also  for 
the  neatness  and  liveliness  of  the  writing,  which  is  greater, 
I  think,  than  in  any  of  your  former  contributions,  &c. 


TO  JOHN   ALLEN.  105 

I  see  the  Quarterly  announced,  with  Canning's  Statement 
as  its  leading  article.  This  is  keeping  clear  of  politics 
with  a  vengeance!  Smith  wrote  me  offering  to  take  that 
subject.  I  rather  dissuaded  him,  but  if  they  make  any 
push  I  think  I  should  let  him  try  his  hand.  Some  of  you 
on  the  spot  should  tell  him  the  personalities  and  the  current 
impressions. 

Well,  what  is  to  become  of  us  ?  I  am  for  a  furious  un- 
sparing attack ;  taking  Walcheren  and  the  Catholics  up 
without  reserve  or  equivocation,  and  going  boldly  against 
the  king  and  all  his  favourites.  To  do  this  with  effect 
something  must  be  yielded  to  the  democratic  party.  In- 
deed, if  the  Whigs  do  not  make  some  sort  of  a  coalition 
with  the  Democrats,  they  are  nobody,  and  the  nation  is 
ruined,  internally  as  well  as  from  without.  There  are  but 
two  parties  in  the  nation — the  Tories,  who  are  almost  for 
tyranny,  and  the  Democrats,  who  are  almost  for  rebellion. 
The  Whigs  stand  powerless  and  unpopular  between  them, 
and  must  side  Avith,  and  infuse  their  spirit  into,  one  or 
other  of  them  before  they  can  do  the  least  good.  Now, 
the  Tories  will  not  coalesce  with  them,  and  the  Democrats 
will ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  Whigs  to  take 
advantage  of  this,  and  to  strengthen  themselves  by  the 
alliance  of  those  who  will  otherwise  overwhelm  both  them 
and  their  antagonists.  Such  are  my  notions;  and,  more- 
over, that  unless  you  make  a  sincere,  direct,  and  even  des- 
perate assault  tolerably  early  in  this  session,  there  is  no 
hope  for  the  country.  Illuminate  me  with  a  ray  of  your 
intelligence. — Most  faithfully  yours. 

58. — To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  4th  May,  1810. 
My  dear  Allen — 

I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  the  Whigs  are  going  to  do 
something  for  popularity  as  well  as  for  consistency.  My 


IOC  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

own  opinion  certainly  is,  that  nothing  can  save  them  or  the 
country,  but  their  becoming  very  popular  in  their  prin- 
ciples, to  the  full  extent  of  Whitbread's  speeches  in  Parlia- 
ment. You  all  clamour  against  my  review  of  parties,*  and 
yet,  does  not  all  that  is  doing  in  London,  Westminster,  and 
Middlesex,  prove  that  I  am  right  ?  Is  it  not  visible  that 
the  great  body  of  the  people  there  is  either  servile  or  demo- 
cratical  ?  and  I  really  see  no  reason  for  refusing  to  take 
them  as  a  sample  of  th^  general  population.  I  know  that 
I  stated  the  dangers  of  the  thing  coming  to  a  crisis  too 
strongly,  and  I  knew  it  at  the  time  ;  but  what  I  meant,  and 
what  I  still  believe  is,  that  if  any  crisis  ever  come — if  the 
present  miserable  system  is  ever  to  be  corrected  by  tho 
sense  and  spirit  of  the  nation — that  the  nation  would  then 
appear  under  these  two  divisions.  Any  great  calamity 
would  bring  on  this  crisis.  If  your  trade  were  effectually 
stopped,  and  your  taxes  prodigiously  deficient,  or  if  there 
were  a  French  army  in  Ireland,  you  would  see  this  split 
take  place,  and  the  Whigs  thrown  out  and  distracted. 
What  is  the  new  Cabinet  to  be  ?  and  how  do  the  judicious 
look  forward  to  the  end  of  the  session  ? 

I  think  a  reform  in  the  Scotch  counties  would  be  opposed 
furiously  by  all  the  pupils  of  Lord  Melville,  but  it  would 
be  carried  in  spite  of  them  if  the  English  Tories  would  tole- 
rate it.  I  have  no  doubt  that  good  will  be  done  by  try- 
ing it. — Ever  very  faithfully  yours. 

Brown  is  elected  joint  Professor  with  D.  Stewart. 

• 

59. — To  Francis  Homer,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  20th  July,  1810. 

My  dear  Homer — I  must  grow  considerably  more  wick- 
ed even  than  I  am,  before  I  can  feel  any  thing  but  grati- 
tude for  your  advices.  Even  if  I  were  not  instructed  by 
their  justness,  I  should  at  least  be  delighted  by  the  proof 

*No.  80,  art.  15. 


TO   FRANCIS   IIORNER.  107 

they  afforded  of  your  kindness.  We  are  growing  too  fac- 
tious ; — I  admit  it ;  and  it  mortifies  me  as  much  as  any 
one  to  think  that  we  are.  But  you  judge  rightly  of  my 
limited  power,  and  of  the  overgrown  privileges  of  some  of 
my  subjects.  I  am  but  a  feudal  monarch  at  best,  and  my 
throne  is  overshadowed  by  the  presumptuous  crests  of  my 
nobles.  However,  I  issue  laudable  edicts,  inculcating  mode- 
ration and  candour,  and  hope  in  time  to  do  some  little  good. 
A  certain  spice  of  aristocracy  in  nrjr  own  nature  withholds 
me  from  the  common  expedient  of  strengthening  myself  by 
a  closer  union  with  the  lower  orders ;  but  I  would  give  a 
great  deal  for  a  few  chieftains  of  a  milder  and  more  disci- 
plined character.  Thank  you,  a  thousand  times,  for  your 
ready  compliance  with  my  request,  and  your  kind  promise 
of  continuing  to  illumine  the  public  through  our  pages,  in 
spite  of  all  the  violence  with  which  they  are  defaced.  I  can 
give  you  till  the  10th  or  12th  of  August  to  transmit  your 
first  contribution.  Make  it  as  full,  and  long,  and  popular 
as  you  can  ;  and  give  us  an  outline  of  your  whole  doctrine, 
rather  than  a  full  exposition  and  vindication  of  its  question- 
able and  disputed  points,  which  may  come  after.  That  is, 
I  should  like  that  arrangement  best,  if  it  be  equally  suit- 
able to  your  own  views. 

I  should  be  ashamed  to  think  that  I  now  scarcely  ever 
write  to  you  except  on  those  subjects,  if  I  wrote  to  any- 
body upon  any  other.  But  though  I  feel  the  same  interest 
in  my  friends,  and  rather  more  affection  for  them  than 
formerly,  I  have  become  infinitely  more  impatient  of  the 
tediousness  of  writing,  and  have  reduced  my  once  bound- 
less correspondence  very  nearly  within  the  dimensions  of 
a  banker's  notice.  It  is  for  this  reason  chiefly  that  I 'am  so 
anxious  to  see  you,  when  I  will  engage  both  to  talk  ahd  to 
listen  with  all  the  freedom  and  earnestness  of  former  days. 
I  like  your  plan  of  a  congress  in  Yorkshire,  and  shall  note 
down  your  periods,  and  try  to  make  my  own  resolutions 
conform  to  them.  But  why  will  you  not  come  down  here, 


108 


LIFE    OF   LOUD    JEFFKKY. 


when  I  should  be  sure  of  seeing  yon  ?  I  am  well  enough  in 
health  again,  but  very  indolent  and  inefficient  in  intellect; 
and  for  this  week  past  have  found  a  slight  headache,  or  the 
noise  of  hammering  up  shelves,  a  sufficient  apology  for  run- 
ning out  of  the  house,  and  spending  my  whole  mornings  in 
the  open  air^  Do  write  me  a  friendly  letter  now  and  then  ; 
and,  greatly  as  I  abhor  writing,  I  promise  to  answer  it, 
both  speedily  and  at  fqjl  length. 

Have  you  seen  Stewart's  volume,  and  what  do  you  think 
of  it  ?  I  find  it  rather  languid  from  its  great  diffusiveness, 
and  want  of  doctrinal  precision.  The  tone  excellent,  and 
the  taste  on  the  whole  good.  But  this  excessive  length  is 
the  sin  of  all  modern  writers.  Shall  we  never  again  see 
any  thing  like  Hume's  Essays  ?  I  thank  you  for  liking 
Crabbe,  though  the  wretch  has  monstrous  faults.  I  hope 
he  will  give  us  a  tragic  poem  some  day.  I  have  overpraised 
him  a  little ;  but  I  think  I  am  safe  as  to  consistency;  and 
I  think  I  have  marked  the  distinction  between  him  and 
Wordsworth  in  my  account  of  his  former  work. 

What  do  you  say  to  reform  ?  I  think  you  go  too  far 
about  privilege.  Though  I  do  not  deny  its  existence,'  I 
think  there  would  be  no  great  harm  in  obliging  you  to 
prove,  in  a  court  of  law,  that  what  we  complained  of  did 
in  every  instance  fall  under  the  proper  conception  of  privi- 
lege, as  established  by  a  sufficient  usage,  in  good  times,  or 
a  clear  or  indisputable  analogy.  However,  I  am  mainly 
ignorant  on  the  subject,  and  have  the  misfortune  of  not 
seeing  the  application  of  one-half  of  what  has  been  written 
about  it.  Playfair  is  in  Ireland, — Stewart  at  Kinniel, — 
Seymour  on  the  Clyde, — Murray  in  Peebleshire,  and 
Thomson  in  the  Register  House.  I  must  be  immediately 
in  the  printing-office,  and  anticipate  three  weeks  of  great 
discomfort. — Believe  me  ever,  very  faithfully  yours. 


TO   FRANCIS   HORNER.  109 


60. — To  Francis  Horner. 

Edinburgh,  25th  January,  1811. 

My  dear  Horner — I  am  very  ungrateful  for  not  having 
answered  your  kind  letter  before,  but  I  have  been  so  ha- 
rassed with  law  and  want  of  sleep,  that  I  have  never  had 
a  minute  when  I  could  sit  down  with  a  safe  conscience  and 
composed  spirit  to  thank  you,  &c. 

Yes — some  good  will  be  done  by  turning  out  the  present 
ministry,  if  it  were  only  for  a  day.  But  are  they  to  go 
out  ?  or  is  there  any  truth  in  the  Courier's  stories  of  the 
dissensions  of  the  opposite  body  ?  Our  Whigs  here  are  in 
great  exultation,  and  had  a  fourth  more  at  Foxe's  dinner 
yesterday  than  ever  attended  before.  There  was  Sir  H. 
Moncrieff  sitting  between  two  papists ; — and  Catholic 
emancipation  drank  with  great  applause;  and  the  lamb 
lying  down  with  the  wolf — and  all  millennial.  Stew'art* 
came  from  the  country  on  purpose  to  attend,  and  all  was 
decorous  and  exemplary,  &c.  I  think  I  shall  come  to 
town  in  April.  If  the  Whigs  be  in  power,  it  will  be  worth 
while  for  the  rarity  of  the  spectacle  ;  like  the  aloe  blossom- 
ing, a  few  days,  once  in  a  hundred  years,  &c. 

There  is  nothing  new  here.  The  meek,  who  inherit  the 
earth,  pass  their  time  very  quietly  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
perturbations,  and  I  among  them.  I  am  a  good  deal  with 
Playfair  and  Alison, — and  teach  them  philanthropy  and 
latitudinarian  indulgence.  Playfair  is  quite  well  this  sea- 
son, and  not  quite  so  great  a  flirt  as  he  was  last  year. 
Stewart  comes  in  sometimes,  and  has  become  quite  robus- 
tious;— jogs  on -horseback  two  hours  every  day  in  all 
weather,  and  superintends  transcribing  as  a  serious  busi- 
ness all  the  evening.  He  is  an  excellent  person  ;  without 
temper,  or  a  sufficiently  steady  and  undisturbable  estima- 
tion of  himself.  And  then  he  is  an  idle  dog ; — almost  as 


*  Trofessor  Dugald. 
VOL.  II.— 10 


1  10  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

great  &  faineant  as  me  or  Cocky  Manners.*  You  will  call 
all  this  blasphemy ;  but  it  is  very  true,  and  I  love  him  all 
the  better  for  believing  it.  Murray  is  in  great  preserva- 
tion— a  little  too  bustling  and  anxious  for  my  epicurean 
god  state ;  but  in  fine  temper,  and  not  at  all  low,  nor  so 
absent  as  usual.  Thomson  a  thought  bilious;  and  alto- 
gether discreet  and  amiable. 

I  have  written  a  long  sermon  about  reform.  It  is  some- 
thing in  the  tone  of  my  state  of  parties  article,  which  you 
all  abused, — and  which  I  consequently  think  the  best  of 
all  my  articles,  and  the  justest  political  speculation  that 
has  appeared  in  our  immortal  journal.!  It  is  nothing  but 
sheer  envy  that  makes  any  of  you  think  otherwise.  How- 
ever, this  will  not  be  so  assailable. — Ever,  very  affection- 
ately yours. 

61.— To  Charles  Bell,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  4th  April,  1811. 

My  dear  Bell — Not  many  things  in  this  world  could  give 
me  greater  pleasure  than  the  affectionate  tone  of  your  let- 
ter, and  the  pleasing  picture  it  holds  out  to  me.  You  are 
doing  exactly  what  you  should  do ;  and  if  my  approbation 
is  at  all  necessary  to  your  happiness,  you  may  be  in  ecstasy. 
I  think  all  men  who  are  capable  of  rational  happiness  ought 
to  marry.  I  think  you  in  particular  likely  to  derive 
happiness  from  marrying ;  and  I  think  the  woman  you 
have  chosen  peculiarly  calculated  to  make  you  happy. 
God  bless  you.  You  have  behaved  hitherto  with  admira- 
ble steadiness  and  magnanimity,  and  have  earned  the  con- 
fidence of  all  your  friends,  as  well  as  the  means  of  enjoy- 
ment. I  cannot -lament  your  nationality  very  bitterly, 
both  because  it  holds  of  all  that  is  happy  and  amiable,  and 
because  I  hope  it  will  give  ua  a  chance  of  seeing  you  often 
among  us.  Besides,  when  you  have  Scottish  tones  and 

*  A  bookseller  in  Edinburgh.  f  No.  30,  art.  15. 


TO»MRS.   MOREHEAD.  Ill 

smiles  perpetually  before  you,  London  will  become  a  sort 
of  Scotland  to  you.  You  have  but  two  faults  in  your 
character,  and  I  think  marriage  will  go  a  great  way  to 
cure  them  both.  One  is  a  little  too  much  ambition,  which 
really  is  not  conducive  to  happiness ;  and  the  other,  which 
arises,  I  believe,  from  the  former,  is  a  small  degree  of 
misanthropy,  particularly  toward  persons  df  your  'own 
profession.  Your  wife's  sweetness  of  temper  will  gradually 
bring  you  into  better  humour  with  the  whole  world,  and 
your  experience  of  the  incomparable  superiority  of  quiet 
and  domestic  enjoyments  to  all  the  paltry  troubles  that 
are  called  splendour  and  distinction,  will  set  to  rights  any 
other  little  errors  that  may  now  exist  in  your  opinions. 
At  all  events,  you  will  be  delivered  from  the  persecution 
of  my  admonitions,  as  it  would  be  a  piece  of  unpardonable 
presumption  to  lecture  a  man  who  has  a  wife  to  lecture  him 
at  home. 

62.— To  Mrs.  MoreTiead. 

London,  Sunday  12th,  May,  1811. 

My  dear  Marjory — This  is  now  my  last  day  in  London, 
and  burning  hot  it  is.  Even  the  east  wind,  I  think,  would 
be  delightfully  refreshing ;  and,  though  I  have  been  court- 
ing the  air  in  the  shady  walks  of  the  park,  I  feel  the  heat 
of  the  hotel  quite  suffocating.  I  wrote  yesterday  to 
John,  and  brought  my  journal  up  to  that  forenoon,  and 
now  I  proceed.  Drove  out  before  dinner  with  Mrs.  Pigon 
to  Kensington — a  most  lovely  afternoon — horse-chestnuts 
in  magnificent  bloom — the  grass  so  fresh  and  velvet  green 
after  the  rains,  and  the  water  so  cool  and  blue.  We 
stopped  under  a  May-bush  in  full  blossom,  and  filled  the 
carriage  nearly  full  of  it.  Came  home  rather  too  late  for 
dinner,  and  went  to  Nugent's,  (a  brother  of  Lord  N.,  and 
a  great  traveller,)  where  we  had  an  assemblage  of  wits  and 
fine  gentlemen — our  old  friends  Ward,  and  Smith,  and 
Brougham,  and  Mills,  who  threatened  last  year  to  be  Chau 


112  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

cellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  Brummell,  the  most  complete 
fine  gentleman  in  all  London,  and  Luttrell,  and  one  or  two 
more.  The  repast  was  exceedingly  voluptuous.  The  talk, 
on  the  whole,  good.  I  had  a  long,  quiet  chat  with  Ward",  who 
is,  after  all,  I  think,  the  cleverest  and  most  original  man  in 
this  pretending  society.  About  eleven,  I  went  to  the  opera 
with  Smith,  who  left  me,  in  the  most  perfidious  manner,  in 
the  princess's  box,  out  of  which  I  found  it  impossible  to 
escape  for  nearly  a  whole  hour ;  during  all  which,  no  one 
individual  looked  in  upon  her  deserted  royalty.  It  was 

really  a  pitiable  spectacle  to  see  her  and  poor  Lady 

reflecting  each  other's  ennui  from  the  two  corners  of  their 
superb  canopy,  struggling  for  a  laugh  in  the  middle  of  a 
yawn,  and  sinking  under  the  weight  of  their  lonely  dig- 
nity. I  went  to  see  Mrs.  Spencer,  who  was  nearly  as 
lonely,  and  got  home  (after  the  usual  scene  of  squeezing) 
about  one.  To-day,  Dicky  Bright  not  having  come  as  he 
promised,  I  went  up  to  breakfast  with  my  friend  Mr. 
Simond,  and  took  him  to  see  Lord  Elgin's  marbles.  I 
afterward  called  on  Brougham  and  Kennedy,  and  re- 
cruited myself  with  a  walk  in  the  park.  I  am  now  about 
to  dress  to  go  to  Holland  House,  where  I  hear  there  is  to 
be  a  great  party.  To-morrow  my  travelling  companions 
breakfast  here,  and  we  set  off  about  eleven.  I  shall  finish 
this  epistle  either  in  the  morning  or  on  the  road.  In  the 
mean  time,  heaven  bless  you. 

Monday  morning,  three  o'clock. — Well,  my  London  cam- 
paign is  closed  at  last,  thank  heaven  !  and  I  cannot  go  to 
bed  till  I  render  you  this  last  account  of  it.  Mrs.  Pigon 
offered  to  set  me  down  at  Holland  House  in  her  carriage  ; 
so  we  went  through  the  park  about  seven,  in  the  most 
beautiful,  but  sultry,  evening — calm,  blue,  and  silver  water, 
noble  trees,  fragrant  shrubs,  and  clouds,  and  masses  of 
blossom — the  whole  air,  as  you  go  up  to  Holland  Park,  is 
perfumed  with  briers,  May  lilies,  and  a  thousand  fragrant 
shrubs.  Inside,  the  assembly  was  great.  The  old  Duke 


TO    AIHS.  MOREHEAD.  113 

of  Norfolk,  almost  as  big  and  as  fond  of  wine  as  Lord 
Newton,*  but  with  the  air  and  tone  and  conversation  of  an 
old  baron  bidding  defiance  to  his  sovereign.  Lords  Say 
and  Sele,  Harrington,  Besborough,  Cowper,  Dundas,  &c., 
with  Dudley  North,  a  wit. and  patriot  of  the  old  Fox  school, 
breaking  out,  every  now  and  then,  into  little  bursts  of 
natural  humour.  Ladies  Besborough,  Cowper,  Caroline 
Lamb,  &c.  A  most  magnificent  repast,  and  Lady  Holland 
in  great  gentleness  and  softness ;  sat  between  D.  North 
and  the  duke,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  talk  with  both.  In 
the  drawing-room,  had  much  conversation  with  Lady  C. 
Lamb,  who  is  supposed  to  be  more  witty  and  eccentric 
than  any  lady  in  London,  but  it  did  not  appear  to  me  very 
charming.  Was  brought  home  by  Lord  Dundas  about 
twelve,  and  went  by  appointment  to  the  Pigons,  where  we 
had  a  very  quiet  and  really  very  pleasing  evening  till  this 
moment.  Nobody  but  Smith,  who  is  quieter  than  usual, 

and  Miss ,  who  is  always  gentle  and  elegant.     It  is 

high  midsummer  heat,  and  exquisitely  lovely,  a  soft  green 
moon,  and  a  soft  blush  of  kindling  dawn,  and  still,  but  bright 
pure  air,  and  a  sort  of  vernal  fragrance  which  makes  itself 
be  felt  even  in  London,  as  you  pass  through  the  squares 
and  past  the  gardens  of  the  quieter  houses.  Well,  I  have 
all  my  packing  to  do  yet.  Kennedy  wishes  to  get  his  let- 
ters before  setting  off  to-morrow,  so  we  shall  not  be  in 
motion  till  near  twelve.  Good  night.  God  bless  you.  I 
hope  the  delicious  weather  has  reached  to  you,  and  driven 
away  those  cruel  headaches.  I  shall  add  a  word  or  two 
in  the  morning. 

JZaton,  sixty  miles  from  London,  Monday  night. — Here 
I  am,  my  dear  Marjory,  really  and  truly  on  my  way  home, 
and  feeling  as  if  just  awakened  from  the  feverish  and  be- 
wildering dream  of  London.  We  did  not  get  away  till 
twelve,  and  have  come  on  delightfully  in  a  smooth-running 

*  A  Scotch  judge. 

'10*  H 


114  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

chariot  with  a  largo  dicky.  Burning  hot  day,  indeed  ;  bat 
a  breathing  and  fragrant  air,  and  every  thing  so  fresh  and 
green,  and  beautiful,  that  the  thoughts  of  the  brick  and 
noise  we  have  left  almost  make  me  shudder.  I  have 
brought  this  letter  on,  thinking  it-  would  go  as  soon  by  this 
night's  mail ;  and  now  I  find  that  it  is  doubtful  whether 
it  will  go  till  to-morrow.  Bu  it  is  no  matter. — Ever  yours 
most  affectionately. 

63.— To  Mm.  Morehead. 

Stirling,  Friday  night,  7th  September,  1811. 
My  dear  Marjory — The  most  beautiful  day,  and  the 
most  beautiful  place  that  ever  was  ;  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
have  too  much  of  it,  for  I  suspect  now  that  I  must  stay  till 
Monday.  My  own  trial  will  go,  I  think,  to-morrow ;  but 
there  is  a  poor  wretch  indicted  for  Monday  who  relied  upon 
some  man  coming  here  for  him,  who  has  not  come;  and  he 
is  so  miserable  about  his  destitution,  that  I  have  engaged 
to  stay  for  him,  if  his  own  faithless  counsel  should  not  ap- 
pear.— Ever  affectionately  yours. 

64. — To  Francis  Homer  ^  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  5th  January,  1813. 

My  dear  Homer — I  have  heard  an  obscure  rumour  that 
you  had  spoken  favourably  to  somebody  of  my  review  of 
Leckie ;  which  I  am  much  afraid  would  appear  tedious  to 
all  persons  who  are  past  their  A  B  C  in  such  matters. 
However,  you  know  I  always  profess  to  write  for  babes  and 
sucklings,  and  take  no  merit  but  for  making  things  level'to 

the  meanest  capacities.     When  I  saw  you  at  ,  I 

think  you  said  you  were  growing  more  in  charity  with  that 
meritorious  sort  of  prosing ;  and  indeed  all  philanthropic 
persons  who  commerce  a  little  largely  in  the  world,  and 
find  how  many  of  all  ages  have  still  their  whole  education 
tc  begin  upon  every  thing  where  right  opinions  are  of  any 
importance,  will  daily  feel  more  indulgence  for  the  slow 


TO   LORD    MURRAY.  115 

and  persevering  methods  which  persons  still  more  philan- 
thropic must  use  for  the  instruction  of  these  unfortunate 
infants.  It  is  to  this  feeling,  I  take  it  for  granted,  I  am 
indebted  for  your  good  opinion.  For  there  is  a  good  part 
of  that  article  which  I  thought  in  considerable  danger  of 
being  attacked  and  ridiculed,  as  a  caricature  of  our  Scotch 
manner  of  running  every  thing  up  to  elements,  and  ex- 
plaining all  sorts  of  occurrences  by  a  theoretical  history  of 
society.  The  last  twelve  or  fifteen  pages  have  a  little  more 
spirit,  &c.  , 

But  now,  my  dear  Homer,  if  you  are  in  tolerable  hu- 
mour with  the  Review,  will  you  let  me  remind  you  again 
of  a  kind  of  promise  you  made  to  supply  me  with  a  few  notes 
about  Windham,  and  especially  with  a  theoretical  history 
of  the  cause  and  progress  of  his  political  opinions.  I  had 
hopes  that  in  this  interlunation  of  your  parliamentary 
course  you  might  have  found  leisure  to  have  done  this,  and 
perhaps  a  little  more  for  me,  &c. 

Tell  me  some  news — and  some  new  books,  if  you  hear 
of  any ;  and  at  any  rate  write  me  a  long  letter  in  the  style 
of  your  earlier  days.  And  tell  me  that  you  have  got  rid 
of  your  coughs  and  maladies — and  will  take  a  walk  in  the 
Highlands  with  me  next  autumn. — Ever  very  affectionately 
yours. 

65. — To  Lord  Murray. 

Liverpool,  20th  August,  1813. 

My  dear  Murray — I  reported  progress  to  Thomson  some 
days  ago,  and  expected  before  this  time  to  have  indited  a 
valedictory  epistle  to  you ;  but  at  present  the  chance  is,  I 
think,  that  I  shall  come  back  and  spend  the  winter,  and 
probably  much  longer,  among  you.  The  short  of  it  is, 
that  government  has  expressly  intimated  to  one  of  the  two 
cartels  now  here  that  they  will  not  allow  either  British  or 
Americans  to  embark  for  the  United  States,  till  they  re- 
ceive a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  detention  of  certain 
British  subjects  in  that  country,  &c. 


116  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

But  God's  will  be  done.  I  endeavour  to  possess  my  soul 
in  patience,  and  shall  await  the  issue  of  this  movement,  and 
of  my  own  afflictions,  as  tranquilly  as  possible.  Our  rulers, 
•with  their  usual  vacillation,  may  relent  and  draw  back  from 
their  threat,  or  some  contrivance  may  be  fallen  upon  to 
enable  me  to  elude  it. 

I  have  been  dining  out  every  day  for  this  last  week  with 
Unitarians,  and  Whigs,  and  Americans,  and  brokers,  and 
bankers,  and  small  fanciers  of  pictures  and  paints,  and  the 
Quaker  aristocracy,  and  the  fashionable  vulgar,  of  the 
place.  But  I  do  not  like* Liverpool  much  better,  and  could 
not  live  here  with  any  comfort.  Indeed,  I  believe  I  could 
not  live  anywhere  out  of  Scotland.  All  my  recollections 
are  Scottish,  and  consequently  all  my  imaginations ;  and 
though  I  thank  God  that  I  have  as  few  fixed  opinions  as 
any  man  of  my  standing,  yet  all  the  elements  out  of  which 
they  are  made  have  a  certain  national  cast  also.  In  short, 
I  will  not  live  anywhere  else  if  I  can  help  it ;  nor  die 
either ;  and  all  old  Esky's*  eloquence  would  have  been 
thrown  away  in  an  attempt  to  persuade  me  that  banishment 
furth  the  kingdom  might  be  patiently  endured.  I  take 
more  to  Roscoe,  however ;  he  is  thoroughly  good-hearted, 
and  has  a  sincere,  though  foolish,  concern  for  the  country. 
I  have  also  found  out  a  Highland  woman  with  much  of  the 
mountain  accent,  and  sometimes  get  a  little  girl  to  talk  to. 
But  with  all  these  resources,  and  the  aid  of  the  botanical 
garden,  the  time  passes  rather  heavily,  and  I  am  in  some 
danger  of  dying  of  ennui,  with  the  apparent  symptoms  of 
extreme  vivacity.  Did  you  ever  hear  that  most  of  the 
Quakers  die  of  stupidity — actually  and  literally  ?  I  was 
assured  of  the  fact  the  other  day  b^a  very  intelligent  phy- 
sician who  practised  twenty  years  among  them,  and  informs 

*  Lord  Eskgrove,  a  judge,  who  consoled  a  friend  he  was  obliged  to 
banish,  by  assuring  him,  that  there  really  were  places  in  the  world,  such 
as  England  for  example,  where  a  man,  though  out  of  Scotland,  might 
live  with  some  little  comfort. 


TO   ROBERT   MOREHEAD.  117 

me  that  few  of  the  richer  sort  live  to  be  fifty,  but  die  of  a 
sort  of  atrophy,  their  cold  blood  just  stagnating  by  degrees 
among  their  flabby  fat.  They  eat  too  much,  he  says,  take 
little  exercise,  and,  above  all,  have  no  nervous  excitement. 
The  affection  is  known  in  this  part  of  the  country  by  the 
name  of  the  Quaker's  disease,  and  more  than  one-half  of 
them  go  out  so.  I  think  this  curious,  though  not  worth 
coming  to  Liverpool  to  hear,  or  writing  from  Liverpool,  &c. 
— Ever  most  truly  yours. 

66.— To  Robert  Morehead. 

Liyerpool,  28th  August,  1813. 

My  dear  Bob — I  think  now  that  we  shall  embark  to-mor- 
row, and  have  to  bid  you  heartily  farewell.  I  hope  to  be 
back  in  December ;  but  you  need  not  give  me  over  for  lost, 
although  I  should  not  appear  quite  so  soon.  I  have  ex- 
plained to  Margaret  the  grounds  upon  which  I  look  upon 
the  hazard  of  detention  as  extremely  slight  in  any  case,  and 
have  nothing  more  to  add  on  that  subject,  of  which  I  take 
a  more  correct  view  than  any  of  the  talkers  or  newspaper 
politicians,  who  may  be  pleased  to  have  another  opinion.  I 
am  almost  ashamed  of  the  degree  of  sorrow  I  feel  at  leaving 
all  the  early  and  long-prized  objects  of  my  affection ;  and 
though  I  am  persuaded  I  do  right  in  the  step  which  I  am 
taking,  I  cannot  help  wishing  that  it  had  not  been  quite  so 
wide  and  laborious  a  one.  You  cannot  think  how  beautiful 
Hatton  appears  at  this  moment  in  my  imagination,  nor 
with  what  strong  emotion  I  fancy  I  hear  Tuckey*  telling 
a  story  on  my  knee,  and  see  Margaret  poring  upon  her 
French  before  me.  It  is  in  your  family  that  my  taste  for 
domestic  society  and  domestic  enjoyments  has  been  nur- 
tured and  preserved.  Such  a  child  as  Tuckey  I  shall  never 
see  again  in  this  world.  Heaven  bless  her ;  and  she  will 
be  a  blessing  both  to  her  mother  and  to  you. 

*  A  nickname  for  one  of  Mr.  Morehead's  daughters.  Margaret 
another. 


118  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

But  I  must  proceed  to  business.  In  this  packet  you 
vi\\\  find  my  picture,  which  you  will  present,  with  my  best 
love  and  affection,  to  Margaret.  I  have  sent  my  will  to 
George  Bell,  with  instructions  to  bring  it  to  you,  if  the 
time  comes  for  using  it. 

I  have  got  your  volume  of  poems,  which  I  read  very 
often,  and  shall  make  Miss  Wilkes  read.  Poetry  is  a 
great  source  of  delight,  but  not  with  a  view  to  conse- 
quences. The  greatest  and  most  delighted  poets  cared 
least  about  its  success.  Homer  and  Shakspeare  gave 
themselves  no  concern  about  who  should  praise  or  ridicule 
them ;  and  the  charm  of  the  thing  is  gone,  I  think,  as 
soon  as  the  poet  allows  any  visions  of  critics  or  posterity 
to  come  across  him.  He  is  then  in  very  worldly  com- 
pany, and  is  a  very  worldling  himself,  in  so  far  as  he 
feels  any  anxiety  about  their  proceedings.  If  I  were  you, 
however,  I  would  live  more  with  Tuckey,  and  be  satisfied 
with  my  gardening  and  pruning — with  my  preaching — a 
good  deal  of  walking,  and  comfortable  talking.  What 
more  has  life  ?  and  how  full  of  vexation  are  all  ambitious 
fancies  and  perplexing  pursuits !  Well,  God  bless  you ! 
Perhaps  I  shall  not  have  an  opportunity  to  inculcate  my 
innocent  epicurism  upon  you  for  a  long  time  again.  It 
will  do  you  no  harm.  The  weather  is  fine,  and,  they  say, 
is  like  to  continue  so  through  this  moon.  I  think  Marga- 
ret should  get  somebody  to  be  with  her  during  a  part,  at 
least,  of  the  autumn.  She  has  been  so  long  accustomed 
to  our  chat,  and  even  to  my  writing,  that  when  there  is  a 
pause,  I  am  afraid  she  may  grow  dull  upon  it.  You  must 
cheer  her,  and  not  let  her  dwell  on  alarms,  even  when  you 
may  fancy  that  there  are  some  grounds  for  them.  I  am 
glad  you  like  my  W.  Penn.  I  have  an  affection  for  that 
kind  of  man  myself;  but  there  can  be  no  such  person  in 
the  present  age.  If  you  have  a  mind  to  try  your  hand  at 
u  review,  it  would  be  obliging  ;  but,  perhaps,  this  is  coming 


TO   MR.  MALTHUS.  119 

too  much  into  the  worldly  contest  and  weary  struggle,  for 
your  views. 

Do  not  let  Tuckey  forget  me,  and  breed  up  Lockhart* 
to  admire  me.  Billf  I  often  remember  too  with  great 
kindness,  and  also  Charles — the  young  parson'sf  meek 
and  cheerful  visage  I  duly  recall  with  blessings. 

You  must  do  duty  by  visiting  round  about  Hatton  in 
my  absence,  to  keep  up  the  character  of  the  place,  and 
the  sense  of  our  existence. — Remember  me  kindly,  and 
believe  me  always,  my  dear  Bob,  yours  very  affectionately. 

67.— To  Mr.  MaWms. 

Edinburgh,  12th  May,  1814. 

My  dear  Malthus — I  am  quite  ashamed  to  think  that  I 
have  never  written  to  you  since  my  return  to  this  country, 
although  I  found  a  kind  letter  from  you,  I  think,  actually 
waiting  my  arrival.  But  I  have  been  so  harassed  with  all 
kinds  of  arrears  and  engagements,  &c. 

Will  you  be  very  angry  if  I  tell  you  that  it  was  none  of 
those  good  feelings  that  forced  me  to  write  to  you  at  pre- 
sent, but  a  mixture  of  regret  and  admiration  which  I  have 
jusc  experienced  in  reading  your  pamphlets  on  the  corn 
trade  ?  Admiration  for  the  clearness,  soundness,  and  in- 
imitable candour  of  your  observations,  and  regret  that 
you  did  not  let  me  put  them  into  the  Review.  You  know 
they  would  be  read  there  by  twice  as  many  people  as  ever 
see  pamphlets.  And  for  your  glory  and  credit  it  might 
have  been  as  well  known  to  all  those  that  you  care  about, 
as  if  your  name  had  been  on  the  title.  It  cannot  be 
helped  now,  however ;  and  I  must  just  aggravate  my  ad- 
miration till  it  altogether  drowns  my  regret.  I  trust, 
however,  that  you  will  not  spoil  me  a  review  as  well  as 
tantalize  me  by  having  missed  one  so  excellent.  Horner 
had  promised  to  give  me  some  remarks  on  the  subject,  but 

*  Another  of  Mr.  Morehead's  children.  f  Two  of  his  boys 


1-0  LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

1  am  half  afraid  your  pamphlet  will  put  him  in  despair, 
In  my  opinion,  indeed,  .it  leaves  nothing  to  be  added ; 
though  I  must  add,  that  you  have  the  great  advantage  of 
being  very  much  of  my  way  of  thinking  on  the  subject. 
Homer  is  much  more  Smithish ;  and  I  bad  written  him  a 
long  letter  to  abate  his  confidence,  when  I  had  the  felicity 
of  finding  all  my  lame  arguments  set  on  their  legs,  and 
my  dark  glimpses  of  reason  brought  into  full  day  in  your 
pages. 

Write  me  a  line  or  two  in  friendship,  in  spite  of  my  ap- 
parently ungrateful  conduct,  from  which  I  have  suffered 
enough  already ;  and  tell  me  something  of  Bonaparte  too, 
and  Alexander,  and  the  future  destiny  of  the  world. — 
Most  faithfully  yours. 

68.—  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  25th  February,  1815. 

My  dearest  Friend — All  well  and  prosperous  enough, 
and  some  of  us  so  busy,  or  at  least  so  improvident,  as 
scarcely  to  have  time  to  say  more ;  and  when  I  have 
added  that  we  think  of  you  hourly,  and  with  love  as  warm 
and  active  as  when  we  last  vanished  from  your  sight,  what 
more  is  there  to  say?  Let  us  see,  &c. 

It  would  only  be  tantalizing  you  to  tell  you  of  new 
books,  when  I  have  no  means  of  sending  them  to  you ; 
and,  indeed,  there  are  but  few  worth  telling  you  about. 
Dugald  Stewart  has  a  new  volume  of  philosophy,  very  dull 
and  dry ;  Scott  a  new  poem,  not  good ;  and  Southey  an- 
other, less  faulty  than  any  of  his  former  productions. 
Then  we  have  Waverley,  which  I  think  admirable;  and 
another  by  the  same  author,  (who  still  wears  his  mask,)  not 
quite  so  powerful,  but  still  a  very  extraordinary  perform- 
ance. The  title  is  Guy  Mannering.  There  is  also  a  little 
poem  called  the  Paradise  of  Coquettes,  more  Popian  than 
any  thing  since  the  time  of  Pope ;  but  fade  a  little  for 
want  of  matter,  and  by  too  great  length.  Author  still 


TO    CHARLES    WILKES.  121 

unknown  also.  In  a  month's  time  I  hope  we  may  be  able 
to  send  you  all  these  things,  and  some  more.  This  peace 
lingers  long  in  her  descent,  however;  and  more  blood,  I  am 
afraid,  must  be  shed  on  the  earth  before  she  reaches  it. 
You  are  too  desponding  as  to  the  future  prospects  of  Ame- 
rica. She  will  breed  an  aristocracy  by-and-by,  and  then 
you  will  get  rid  of  all  your  vulgar  miseries.  Only  take 
care  that  you  do  not  cast  off  your  love  of  liberty  along 
with  them.  As  we  are  still  at  war,  however,  I  abstain  from 
all  such  speculations.  I  have  said  nearly  what  I  think  in 
my  article  on  that  subject  in  last  number  of  the  Review, 
though  too  shortly  on  the  great  point  to  be  intelligible  to 
those  who  do  not  think  with  me  before.  You  guess  a  little 
better  at  my  articles  in  these  last  numbers,  though  you  are 
not  quite  right  yet ;  but  I  cannot  set  you  right  to-night, 
for  Charlotte  has  got  your  letter  locked  up,  and  she  has 
been  in  bed  this  hour,  and  I  forget  now  what  are  your 
blunders.  In  the  last  number  for  December  I  do  a  great 
deal,  though  not  very  well — Wordsworth,  the  Scottish 
poets,  Waverley,  and  America,  besides  vamping  and 
patching. 

I  have  had  an  extraordinary  fit  of  professional  zeal  all 
this  term,  and  have  attended  to  little  but  law ;  so  I  am 
behindhand  again  with  my  Review,  and  sick  at  heart  of  it. 
Bufc  I  cannot  afford  to  quit  yet,  and  must  scribble  on — 
begging,  borrowing,  and  coining.  We  are  getting  jury 
trial  in  certain  civil  cases  too,  and  that  will  give  me  more 
work.  For  you  must  know  I  am  a  great  juryman  in  the 
few  cases  that  are  now  tried  in  that  way,  and  got  a  man 
off  last  week  for  murdering  his  wife,  to  the  great  indignation 
of  the  court,  and  discontent  of  all  good  people.  Adam, 
the  Prince's  Adam,  whom  you  may  perhaps  have  heard  of, 
comes  down  to  teach  us  how  to  manage  civil  juries.  He 
is  a  Baron  of  our  Exchequer  already,  for  which  he  has 
,£2000,  and  is  to  have  as  much  more  for  presiding  in  this 
court.  He  is  a  very  sensible  man,  and  good  humoured, 

VOL.  II.— 11 


122  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

but  knows  almost  as  little  of  juries  as  we  do;  so  we  shall 
make  fine  work  for  a  while,  I  imagine ;  but  you  care  as 
little  about  this  as  I  do  about  your  paper  dollars :  and  you 
are  quite  right.  I  do  not  know  why  I  talk  of  it,  &c. 

John  is  well,  but  deplorably  idle,  and  like  all  idle  people, 
more  difficult  to  entertain  than  those  who  are  busy.  Much 
as  I  patronize  idleness,  and  firmly  as  I  still  believe  that  it 
would  bring  no  ennui  to  myself,  I  daily  see  the  prodigious 
advantage  which  a  regular  occupation  brings  in  this  capital 
article  of  amusement.  Every  little  interval  of  leisure,  and 
almost  every  sort  of  frivolous  thought  you  can  fill  it  with, 
is  a  delight  to  a  man  who  has  escaped  from  hard  work ; 
while  those  who  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  amuse  them- 
selves, find  no  delight  in  any  thing.  For  this  reason  I 
doubt  whether  your  American  young  ladies,  who  have  not 
half  so  many  tasks  and  restraints  put  upon  them  as  young 
ladies  everywhere  else  have,  are  altogether  so  happy  on 
the  whole;  and  I  think  I  have  seen  more  visible  marks  of 
ennui  in  the  misses  just  entered  on  their  teens,  who  are 
allowed  so  prematurely  to  pass  their  whole  mornings  in 
parading  in  Broadway,  than  I  ever  saw  in  so  young  faces 
before.  When  I  write  my  threatened  book  upon  female 
education,  I  must  rank  that  of  your  free  country  among 
the  most  injudicious.  Charlotte  writes  to  her  mother. 
Remember  me  most  kindly  to  her  and  to  all.  I  have  still 
a  romantic  hankering  after  your  bay  and  Jersey  woods, 
and  cannot  forgive  myself  now  for  not  having  gone  up 
your  Hudson.  I  must  absolutely  go  back,  I  find,  and  re- 
pair those  omissions.  I  remember  you  promised  to  give 
me  a  piece  of  land  with  trees  and  wild  streams,  and  I  fancy 
I  shall  come  over  and  be  buried  there.  I  told  you  in  my 
last  how  angry  I  was  at  hearing  of  the  Philadelphia  pub- 
lication of  my  journal.  I  never  showed  a  scrap  of  it  to 
any  one  there,  and  there  is  nothing  in  it,  as  you  know,  of 
personal  ridicule,  either  of  Monroe  or  any  of  the  other 
ministers.  I  beg  you  would  contradict  it  in  my  name. 


TO    FEAXCIS    HORXER.  123 

As  soon  as  there  is  peace  I  shall  write  to  Monroe  myself  to 
thank  him  for  his  kindness  to  me,  and  I  should  not  like 
that  he  should  have  believed  me  capable  of  such  duplicity 
and  ingratitude.  Is  it  true  that  Walsh  is  turned  democrat  ? 
Do  not  forget  to  tell  him.  that  I  never  believed  the  paltry 
gossips  about  his  ill  usage  of  his  wife's  family.  You  know 
I  quarrelled  with  Mrs.  S.  on  the  subject  at  Philadelphia ; 
and  now  God  bless  you.  I  am  very  sleepy,  and  shall  go 
and  dream  of  the  Park  and  Bloomingdale,  and  your  gliding 
sails,  and  blue  waters,  and  poplars,  and  pet  greenhouses. — 
Ever  most  affectionately  yours. 

69. — To  Francis  Homer,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  12th  March,  1816. 

My  dear  Homer — 

You  need  make  no  apology  for  your  principles  to  me. 
I  have  never  for  an  instant  considered  them  as  other  than 
just  and  noble.  As  an  old  friend  and  countryman,  I  am 
proud  of  their  purity  and  elevation,  and  should  have  no 
higher  ambition,  if  I  were  at  all  in  public  life,  than  to 
share  and  enforce  them.  I  say  this  with  reference  to  your 
attachment  to  party,  your  regard  to  character,  and  your 
candour  and  indulgence  to  those  of  whom  you  have  to 
complain.  Situated,  as  I  am,  at  a  distance  from  all  active 
politics,  the  two  first  strike  me  as  less  important,  and  I 
give  way  to  my  political  and  constitutional  carelessness 
without  any  self-reproach.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  it  is 
probable  I  should  feel  differently,  but  these  are  none  of 
the  matters  on  which  I  should  ever  think  of  quarrelling 
with  your  principles  of  judgment. 

Neither  will  I  deny  that  the  Review  might  have  been 
more  firmly  conducted,  and  greater  circumspection  used  to 
avoid  excesses  of  all  sorts.  Only  the  anxiety  of  such  a 
duty  would  have  been  very  oppressive  to  me,  and  I  have 
ever  been  slow  to  believe  the  matter  of  so  much  importance 


LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

•  v 

as  to  impose  it  absolutely  upon  me.  I  have  not,  however, 
been  altogether  without  some  feelings  of  duty  on  the  sub- 
ject ;  and  it  is  as  to  the  limits  and  extent  of  these  that  I 
am  inclined  to  differ  with  you.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
been  better  to  have  kept  more  to  general  views.  But  in 
such  times  as  we  hare  lived  in,  it  was  impossible  not  to  mix 
them,  as  in  fact  they  mix  themselves,  with  questions  which 
might  be  considered  as  of  a  narrower  and  more  factious 
description.  In  substance  it  appeared  to  me  that  my  only 
absolute  duty  as  to  political  discussion  was,  to  forward  the 
great  ends  of  liberty,  and  to  exclude  nothing  but  what  had 
a  tendency  to  promote  servile,  sordid,  and  corrupt  princi- 
ples. As  to  the  means  of  attaining  these  ends,  I  thought 
that  considerable  latitude  should  be  indulged,  and  that  un- 
less the  excesses  were  very  great  and  revolting,  every  man 
of  talent  should  be  allowed  to  take  his  own  way  of  recom- 
mending them.  In  this  way  it  always  appeared  to  me  that 
a  considerable  diversity  was  quite  compatible  with  all  the 
consistency  that  should  be  required  in  a  work  of  this  de- 
scription, and  that  doctrines  might  very  well  be  maintained 
in  the  same  number  which  were  quite  irreconcilable  wkh 
each  other,  except  in  their  common  tendency  to  repress 
servility,  and  diffuse  a  general  spirit  of  independence  in 
the  body  of  the  people.  This  happens,  I  take  it,  in  every 
considerable  combination  of  persons  for  one  general  end  ; 
and  in  every  debate  on  a  large  and  momentous  question,  I 
fancy  that  views  are  taken  and  principles  laid  down  by 
those  who  concur  in  the  same  vote,  which  bear  in  opposite 
directions,  and  are  brought  from  the  most  adverse  points 
of  doctrine.  Yet  all  these  persons  co-operate  easily  enough, 
and  no  one  is  ever  held  to  be  responsible  for  all  the  topics 
and  premises  which  may  be  insisted  on  by  his  neighbours. 
To  come,  for  instance,  to  the  topic  of  attacks  on  the  per- 
son of  the  sovereign.  Many  people,  and  I  profess  myself 
to  be  one,  may  think  such  a  proceeding  at  variance  with 
the  dictates  of  good  taste,  of  dangerous  example,  and  re- 


TO    FHAXC1S    1IORNER.  125 

pugnant  to  good  feelings  ;  and  therefore  they  will  not  them- 
selves have  recourse  to  it.  Yet  it  would  be  difficult,  I 
think,  to  deny  that  it  is,  or  may  be,  a  lawful  weapon  to  be 
employed  in  the  great  and  eternal  contest  between  the  court 
and  the  country.  Can  there  be  any  doubt  that  the  personal 
influence  and  personal  character  of  the  sovereign  is  an, 
element,  and  a  pretty  important  element,  in  the  practical 
constitution  of  the  government,  and  always  forms  part  of 
the  strength  or  weakness  of  the  administration  he  employs? 
In  the  abstract,  therefore,  I  cannot  think  that  attempts  to 
weaken  that  influence,  to  abate  a  dangerous  popularity,  or 
even  to  excite  odium  toward  a  corrupt  and  servile  ministry, 
by  making  the  prince,  on  whose  favour  they  depend,  gene- 
rally contemptible  or  hateful,  are  absolutely  to  be  inter- 
dicted or  protested  against.  Excesses  no  doubt  may  be 
committed.  But  the  system  of  attacking  abuses  of  power, 
by  attacking  the  person  who  instigates  or  carries  them 
through  by  general  popularity  or  personal  influence,  is  law- 
ful enough,  I  think,  and  nay  form  a  large  scheme  of  Whig 
opposition, — not  the  best  or  the  noblest  part  certainly,  but 
one  not  without  its  use, — and  that  may  on  some  occasions 
be  altogether  indispensable.  It  does  not  appear  to  me, 
therefore,  that  the  degree  of  sanction  that  may  be  given 
to  such  attacks,  by  merely  writing  in  the  same  journal 
•where  they  occasionally  appear,  is  to  be  considered  as  a 
sin  against  conscience  or  the  constitution,  or  would  be  so 
imputed. 

I  say  all  this,  however,  only  to  justify  my  own  laxity  on 
these  points,  and  certainly  with  no  hope  of  persuading  you 
to  imitate  it.  With  regard  to  the  passages  in  last  number, 
which  you  consider  as  a  direct  attack  on  the  Whig  party, 
I  must  say  that  it  certainly  did  not  strike  me  in  that  light 
•when  I  first  read  it ;  nor  can  I  yet  persuade  myself  that 
this  is  its  true  and  rational  interpretation.  I  took  it,  I 
confess,  as  an  attack, — not  upon  any  regular  party  or  con- 
nection in  the  State, — but  upon  those  individuals,  either  in 

11* 


126  LIFE    OF    LOUD   JKFFKHY. 

m 

party  or  out  of  it,  to  whose  personal  qualities  it  seemed 
directly  to  refer, — men  such  as  have  at  all  times  existed, 
who,  with  honourable  and  patriotic  sentiments,  and  firm- 
ness enough  to  resist  direct  corruption  and  intimidation, 
yet  wanted  vigour  to  withstand  the  softer  pleas  of  civility 
or  friendship,  and  allowed  their  public  duties  to  be  post- 
poned, rather  than  give  offence  or  pain  to  individuals  with 
whom  they  were  connected.  This  I  really  conceive  is  the 
natural  and  obvious  application  of  the  words  that  are  em- 
ployed, and  I  am  persuaded  they  will  appear  to  the  gene- 
ral view  of  readers  to  have  no  deeper  meaning.  Certainly 
they  suggested  no  other  to  me  ;  and  if  they  had,  I  would 
undoubtedly  have  prevented  their  publication  ;  for  I  should 
look  upon  such  an  attack  as  that  as  a  violation  of  that 
fidelity  to  the  cause  of  liberty  to  which  I  think  we  are  sub- 
stantially pledged. 

I  wish  I  had  ten  minutes'  talk  with  you  instead  of  all  this 
scribble,  &c. — Believe  me  always  very  affectionately  yours. 

70.— To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Craigcrook,  7th  May,  1816. 

My  dear  Friend — We  are  trying  to  live  at  this  place  for 
a  few  days,  just  to  find  out  what  scenes  are  pleasant,  and 
•what  holes  the  wind  blows  through.  I  must  go  back  to 
town  in  two  or  three  days  for  two  months,  but  in  July  we 
hope  to  return,  and  finish  our  observations  in  the  course 
of  the  autumn.  It  will  be  all  scramble  and  experiment 
this  season,  for  my  new  buildings  will  not  be  habitable  till 
next  year,  and  the  rubbish  which  they  occasion  will  be 
increased  by  endless  pulling  down  of  walls,  levelling  and 
planting  of  shrubs,  &c.  Charley  wishes  me  to  send  you  a 
description  of  the  place,  but  it  will  be  much  shorter  and 
more  satisfactory  to  send  you  a  drawing  of  it,  which  I 
shall  get  some  of  my  artist  friends  to  make  out.  In  the 
mean  time,  try  to  conceive  an  old  narrow  high  house, 
eighteen  feet  wide  and  fifty  long,  with  irregular  projec- 


TO    CHARLES    WILKES.  127 

tions  of  all  sorts  ;  three  little  staircases,  turrets,  and  a  large 
round  tower  at  one  end  ;  on  the  whole  exhibiting  a  ground 


n  o  Q 


plan  like  this   ZJ J     with  multitudes  of  windows 


of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  placed  at  the  bottom  of  a  green 
slope  ending  in  a  steep  woody  hill,  which  rises  to  the  height 
of  300  or  400  feet  on  the  west,  and  shaded  with  some  re- 
spectable trees  near  the  door, — with  an  old  garden  (or 
rather  two,  one  within  the  other)  stuck  close  on  one  side 
of  the  house,  and  surrounded  with  massive  and  aged  stone 
walls  fifteen  feet  high.  The  inner  garden  I  mean  to  lay 
down  chiefly  in  smooth  grass,  with  clustered  shrubs  and 
ornamental  trees  beyond,  to  mask  the  wall,  and  I  am  busy 
in  widening  the  approaches  and  substituting  sunk  fences 
for  the  high  stone  walls  on  the  lawn.  My  chief  operation 
however,  consists  in  an  additional  building,  which  I  have 
marked  out  with  double  lines  on  the  elegant  plan  above,  in 
which  I  shall  have  one  excellent  and  very  pleasant  room 
of  more  than  twenty-eight  feet  in  length  by  eighteen  in 
breadth,  with  a  laundry  and  store-room  below,  and  two 
pretty  bed-chambers  above.  The  windows  of  these  rooms 
are  the  only  ones  in  the  whole  house  which  will  look  to  tha 
hill  and  that  sequestered  and  solemn  view,  which  is  the 
chief  charm  of  the  spot.  The  largest,  Charlotte  and  I 
have  agreed  to  baptize  by  your  name,  and  little  Charley  is 
to  be  taught  to  call  it  grandpapa  s  room,  as  soon  as  she 
speak.  So  you  must  come  and  take  possession  of  it  soon, 
or  the  poor  child  will  get  superstitious  notions  of  you  as 
an  invisible  being.  In  the  mean  time,  the  walls  are  only 
ten  feet  high,  and  C.  and  I  sleep  in  a  little  dark  room, 
not  twelve  feet  square,  in  the  tower ;  and  I  have  contracted 
for  all  my  additional  building  to  be  built  solidly  of  stone 
for  about  £450,  and  expect  to  execute  most  of  my  other 
improvements,  among  which  a  new  roof  to  the  old  house 
is  the  weightiest,  for  about  as  much  more.  I  have  a  lease 


LIFE  OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

for  twenty  years  cf  near  fifteen  acres  for  £32  a  year,  for 
which  lease,  however,  I  paid  .£1200,  and  I  can  get  it  pro- 
longed to  thirty  years  on  reasonable  terms.  I  get  this 
year  near  £60  for  my  fields,  which  I  mean  to  keep  for 
ever  in  grass.  And  now  you  know  all  about  my  establish- 
ment here  that  you  can  easily  know  without  coming  to  see 
it,  and  all  you  deserve  to  know  unless  you  will  come.  I 
have  an  excellent  gardener  for  £45  a  year,  who  engages 
to  do  all  my  work  himself,  with  the  help  of  two  labourers 
for  a  week  or  two  in  spring ;  but  I  fear  he  could  not 
undertake  a  greenhouse  without  neglecting  his  grass  and 
gravel.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  Charlotte  is  well,  because 
she  is  writing  to  you  herself,  nor  that  baby  is  delicious,  for 
I  daresay  she  tells  you  nothing  else.  I  think  she  will  be 
very  happy  here,  and  it  will  be  less  a  banishment  to  people 
without  a  carriage  than  Hatton,  for  she  has  already  made 
the  experiment  of  walking  into  Edinburgh  and  back  again 
without  any  fatigue.  The  distance  is  not  more  than  two 
miles  and  a  half,  &c. — Ever  most  affectionately  yours. 

71. —  To  Francis  Homer ',  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  9th  June,  1815. 
My  dear  Homer — 

Here  I  lie, 
Shot  by  a  sky- 
Rocket  in  the  eye.* 

This  is  literally  true,  except  that  I  am  not  dead,  nor 
quite  blind.  But  I  have  been  nearly  so  for  the  last  week, 
•or  I  could  not  have  neglected  your  very  kind  letter  so  long. 
I  am  a  sad  wretch  of  a  correspondent,  however,  even  when 
I  have  my  eyesight,  and  deserve  your  kindness  in  no  way, 
but  by  valuing  and  returning  it. 

I  am  mortally  afraid  of  the  war,  and  I  think  that  is  all 
I  can  say  about  it.  I  hate  Bonaparte  too,  because  he 

*  He  had  been  struck,  and  alarmingly,  by  fc  rocket,  near  the  eye,  ou 
the  4t!i  of  June. 


TO    FRAXCJS    IIORNER.  120 

makes  me  more  afraid  than  anybody  else,  and  seems  more 
immediately  the  cause  of  my  paying  income-tax,  and  having 
my  friends  killed  with  dysenteries  and  gun-shot  wounds, 
and  making  my  country  unpopular,  bragging,  and  servile, 
and  every  thing  that  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be.  I  do  think, 
too,  that  the  risk  was,  and  is,  far  more  imminent  and  tre- 
mendous, of  the  subversion  of  all  national  independence, 
and  all  peaceful  virtues,  and  mild  and  generous  habits,  by 
his  insolent  triumph,  than  by  the  success  of  the  most  absurd 
of  those  who  are  allied  against  him.  Men  will  not  be  ripe 
for  a  reasonable  or  liberal  government  on  this  side  of  the 
millennium.  But  though  old  abuses  are  likely  to  be  some- 
what tempered  by  the  mild  measures  of  wealthy  communi- 
ties, and  the  diffusion  of  something  like  intelligence  and 
education  among  the  lower  orders,  I  really  cannot  bring 
myself,  therefore,  to  despise  and  abuse  the  Bourbons,  and 
Alexander,  and  Francis,  with  the  energy  which  you  do. 
They  are  absurd,  shallow,  and  hollow  persons,  I  daresay. 
But  they  are  not  very  atrocious,  and  never  will  have  the 
power  to  do  half  so  much  mischief  as  their  opponent.  I  pre- 
fer, upon  the  whole,  a  set  of  tyrants,  if  it  must  be  so,  that 
we  can  laugh  at,  and  would  rather  mix  contempt  with  my 
political  dislike,  than  admiration  or  terror.  You  admire 
greatness  much  more  than  I  do,  and  have  a  far  more  ex- 
tensive taste  for  the  sublime  in  character.  So  I  could  be 
in  my  heart  for  taking  a  hit  at  Bonaparte  in  public  or  in 
private,  whenever  I  thought  I  had  him  at  an  advantage ; 
and  would  even  shuffle  a  little  on  the  score  of  morality  and 
national  rights,  if  I  could  insure  success  in  my  enterprise. 
But  I  am  dreadfully  afraid,  and  do  not  differ  from  you  in 
seeing  little  but  disorder  on  either  side  of  the  picture.  On 
the  whole,  however,  my  wish-es  must  go  to  the  opposite 
side  from  yours,  I  believe ;  and  that  chiefly  from  my  caring 
more  about  the  present,  compared  with  the  future.  I  really 
cannot  console  myself  for  the  certainty  of  being  vexed  and 
anxious,  and  the  chance  of  being  very  unhappy  all  my 

I 


130  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

life,  by  the  belief  that  some  fifty  or  a  hundred  years  after 
I  am  dead,  there  will  be  somewhat  less  of  folly  or  wretched- 
ness among  the  bigots  of  Spain,  or  the  boors  of  Russia. 
One  reads  and  thinks  so  much  of  past  ages,  and  extends 
the  scale  of  our  combinations  so  far  beyond  the  rational 
measure  of  our  actual  interest  in  events,  that  it  is  difficult 
not  to  give  way  now  and  then  to  that  illusion.  But  I  laugh 
at  myself  ten  times  a  day  for  yielding  to  it  ;  and  have  no 
doubt  that  when  my  days  come  to  a  close,  I  shall  find  it 
but  a  poor  consolation  for  the  sum  of  actual  suffering  I 
have  come  through. 

I  know  you  think  all  this  damnable  heresy.  But  I  can- 
not see  things  in  any  other  light  when  I  look  calmly  upon 
them  ;  and  I  really  fancy  I  am  a  very  calm  observer,  &c. 

For  God's  sake  get  me  a  reviewer  who  can  write  a  taking 
style.  Suggest  some  good  topics  and  ideas  to  me,  and 
believe  me  always,  most  affectionately  yours. 


72.—  To  John  Allen, 

Edinburgh,  13th  February,  1816. 

My  dear  Allen  —  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for  your 
letter,  and  wish  you  had  made  it  twice  as  long.  I  am  sorry 
though  that  you  will  not  do  Sismondi,  and  cannot  well 
admit  your  apology,  as  I  am  almost  certain  that  he  will 
ultimately  fall  into  the  hands  of  somebody  who  does  not 
know  so  much  of  the  matter  as  you  do.  There  is  some- 
thing delightful  in  the  perfect  candour  with  which  you 
speak  of  your  own  prepossessions  on  the  subject  of  French 
politics  ;  and  there  has  always  been  so  much  temperance 
and  true  philanthropy  in  all  your  speculations,  that  I  most 
gladly  trust  you  with  that  as  any  other  subject,  did  I  not 
conceive  it  to  be  already  engaged,  &c. 

The  article  on  reform  I  should  be  extremely  gratified 
by  your  doing.  I  engage  the  subject  to  you,  and  am  sure 
that  both  we  and  our  readers  will  be  delighted  by  the  change 
of  hand.  The  new  condition  of  English  society,  both  by 


TO   CHARLES    WILKES.  131 

the  great  increase  of  taxes  and  establishments,  the  general 
diffusion  of  information,  accompanied  by  an  apparent  sus- 
pension or  extinction  of  all  sorts  of  political  enthusiasm, 
and  the  new  character  and  tone,  whether  accidental  or 
natural,  that  has  been  assumed  of  late  years  by  ministers 
and  by  Parliament,  all  afford  topics  of  interesting  and  pro- 
found speculation.  Upon  which  I  am  satisfied  you  could 
easily  give  us  many  views  of  the  highest  importance.  Pray, 
do  that  good  service  to  us  and  the  country,  and  tell  me 
that  I  shall  have  your  manuscript  very  early  in  March. 

I  thank  you  for  your  remarks  on  my  French  article. 
I  daresay  it  is  wrong  to  name  the  Duke  of  Orleans  so 
plainly ;  but  I  own  I  felt  a  desire  to  set  the  example  of 
speaking  quite  freely  and  plainly  of  foreign  politics. 
Since  we  were  obliged  to  be  a  little  cautious  to  our  own, 
it  would  be  a  miserable  and  degrading  thing  if,  after  all 
the  ingratitude  and  selfishness  of  foreign  courts,  English- 
men should  be  dragooned  into  the  necessity  of  "  hinting 
faults,  and  hesitating  dislike,"  where  any  of  our  allies  are 
concerned ;  and  one  great  risk  of  this  formidable  alliance 
is,  to  give  a  pretext  for  such  slavishness.  For  this  reason 
I  rejoice  extremely  at  the  plain  terms  in  which  Brougham 
and  Tierney  have  spoken  of  Ferdinand  in  the  House,  and 
I  hope  the  spirit  will  be  kept  up.  We  are  enough  abused 
already  to  entitle  us  to  speak  with  perfect  freedom  of 
other  nations  at  home.  Do  write  me  soon,  and  believe 
me  always  most  faithfully  yours. 

73.— To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Craigcroek,  September,  18J6. 

I  am  in  the  middle  of  a  review  at  this  moment,  and,  as 
usual,  in  great  perplexity  and  huge  indignation  at  the 
perfidy  of  my  associates.  Playfair  is  in  Italy,  and  so  is 
Brougham.  My  excellent  Homer  is  here,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  in  a  very  distressing  state  of  health.  I  fear  it  will 
be  necessary  for  him  to  spend  the  winter  abroad,  and  that 


132  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

is  always  a  fearful  necessity  for  an  English  constitution. 
I  do  not  know  another  individual  so  much  to  be  lamented, 
on  public  and  on  private  grounds.  He  is  one  of  those  I 
should  have  been  most  proud  to  have  shown  you ;  one  of 
those  which  your  world  has  not  yet  produced,  and  for  the 
sake  of  whom  we  must  always  look  upon  that  world  with 
some  degree  of  dislike  and  disdain.  I  wish  I  could  think 
that  you  could  but  see  him.  But  there  is  no*  help.  I 
have  no  politics  to  lecture  you  upon.  The  king,  you  see, 
has  at  last  dissolved  his  chamber  of  ultras  ;  and,  late  as  it 
is,  it  is  the  wisest  thing  he  has  done  since  his  accession. 
If  he  is  serious,  and  can  get  people  to  believe  that  he  is, 
and  can  contkiue  to  live  a  little  longer,  things  may  go 
tolerably  yet ;  but  I  have  no  serious  hope  of  French 
liberty,  and  shall  be  satisfied  if  they  do  not  go  mad  arid 
bite  their  neighbours  as  they  did  before.  You  know,  I 
suppose,  that  Simond  has  become  an  ultra,  and  goes  about 
saying  that,  as  the  two  parties  can  never  coalesce,  the  one 
must  put  down  the  other  by  force,  and  that  the  French 
like  to  be  ruled  by  force,  and  that  the  safest  party  to 
trust  with  that  power  is  the  Royalist.  This,  I  think,  is 
the  sum  of  his  present  creed ;  and  he  answers  all  sorts  of 
arguments  by  repeating  it  over  and  over,  without  the  least 
variation,  as  devoutly  as  a  monk.  I  assure  you  it  is  quite 
diverting  to  hear  him.  His  old  indifferency  was  more 
respectable ;  but  if  this  amuses  him  more,  he  is  right  to 
indulge  it.  How  have  peace  and  war  left  your  parties  ? 
Are  your  democrats  still  in  the  ascendant,  or  have  they 
reached  their  meridian  and  beginning  to  decline  ?  They 
will  do  so  if  you  have  patience  and  let  them  alone,  &c. 
God  bless  you. — Most  affectionately  yours. 

74. — To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  20th  December,  1816. 

My  dear  Allen — As  to  parliamentary  reform  and  the 
progress  of  our  constitution,  my  opinions  are  already  on 


TO   JOHN   AL1.EX.  133 

record ;  and  you  can  judge  whether  I  am  too  vain  in  say- 
ing that  I  think  they  coincide  more  exactly  -with  yours 
than  with  those  of  any  other  person  with  whom  I  have 
communicated.  Thinking  them,  therefore,  not  only  true, 
but  of  considerable  importance,  you  cannot  doubt  that  I 
must  be  extremely  gratified  to  have  them  supported  by 
the  clear  and  temperate  reasoning,  and  the  overpowering 
weight  of  accurate  knowledge,  with  which  you  could  adorn 
them.  As  to  Bonaparte,  I  have  never  hated  him  much, 
since  he  has  lost  his  power  to  do  mischief.  I  suppose 
I,  hated  him  before,  chiefly  because  I  feared  him,  and 
thought  he  might  do  me  a  mischief.  But  I  never  believed 
that  a  creature  upon  whom  so  much  depended  could  be  an 
ordinary  man.  I  was  struck  at  the  first  reading  with  the 
fairness  of  Warden's  book,  though  it  is  a  little  shallow, 
scanty,  and  inconsistent ;  but  I  am  disposed  to  treat  a 
fallen  sovereign  with  all  sort  of  courtesy,  and  certainly  to 
insult  him  less  than  when  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power. 
I  like  to  think  well  of  the  few  people  one  must  think 
about,  and  should  really  feel  obliged  to  any  one  who  could 
make  me  admire  or  love  this  singular  being  a  little  more 
than  I  can  even  yet  bring  myself  to  do.  His  magnanimity 
and  equanimity, — his  talents  and  courage,  and  even  his 
self-command,  I  am  not  inclined  to  question.  But  he  had 
a  heart,  I  think,  of  ice  and  adamant;  and  I  own  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  that  those  who  knew  and  loved  Fox  should 
have  any  tenderness  toward  him.  I  cannot  agree  that 
he  had  any  princely  virtues,  low  as  these  are  in  the  scale 
of  ethics.  He  was  a  chief  much  more  in  the  style  of 
Frederick  than  of  Henri  IV. ;  and  I  must  hate  all  the 
tribe.  But  I  hate  still  more  the  poor  sycophants  who 
would  deny  him  what  he  is  entitled  to,  and  should  be 
proud  myself  to  do  him  noble  justice  in  opposition  to  their 
servile  clamours.  You  will  oblige  me  infinitely  by  under- 
taking this,  either  along  with,  or  instead  of,  your  other 
theme,  &c. 
VOL.  II.— 12 


134  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

I  think  I  won't  be  up  before  February.  Pray  make 
my  peace  with  Lady  Holland,  and  tell  her  I  am  coming 
round  to  her  sentiments, — slowly  and  cautiously  indeed, 
like  a  man  who  consults  his  conscience,  but  surely  and 
steadily, — and  that  I  think  we  shall  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
St.  Helena  together. — Ever  most  truly  yours. 

75. — To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq.,  New  York. 

London,  17th  February,  1817. 

My  dear  Friend — Charlotte's  indefatigable  and  dutiful 
pen  has,  I  daresay,  already  informed  you  of  my  having 
been  now  three  weeks  away  from  her  in  this  profligate 
city,  &c. 

I  live  chiefly  with  the  opposition ;  but  our  party  feelings 
do  not  interfere  so  much  with  our  private  friendships  as 
in  some  other  countries,  and  least  of  all,  I  think,  in  Lon- 
don, and  with  persons  at  the  head  of  their  parties.  When 
I  was  last  in  town,  I  dined  one  day  at  Lord  Aberdeen's, 
where  a  Frenchman  was  excessively  astonished  to  see  Lord 
Holland  and  the  Lord  President  of  the  Council  come  to 
the  door  in  the  same  hackney  coach.  I  am  not  sure 
whether  the  baseness  of  the  vehicle  or  the  strange  assort- 
ment of  the  cargo  amazed  him  the  most ;  and  I  suspect  an 
American  would  have  wondered  very  nearly  as  much.  I 
saw  a  good  deal  of  Frere,  and  a  little  of  Canning ;  neither 
of  whom  appeared  to  me  very  agreeable,  though  certainly 
witty  and  well  bred.  There  is  a  little  pedantry,  and  some- 
thing of  the  conceited  manner  of  a  first-form  boy,  about 
both.  Among  the  young  Whigs  I  think  Lord  Morpeth 
the  most  distinguished,  and  likely  to  rise  highest  With 
great  ambition,  he  unites  singular  correctness  of  judgment, 
and  a  modesty  of  manner  which,  in  spite  of  a  command- 
ing presence,  and  all  the  noble  airs  of  the  Howards  and 
Cavendishes,  I  have  no  doubt  would  be  set  down  for  awk- 
wardness by  a  beau  of  New  York.  I  met  Burdett  once  or 
twice,  who  is  very  mild  and  agreeable  in  private  society ; 


TO   CHARLES    WTLKES.  13l) 

but,  though  he  was  then  coquetting  with  the ,  I  saw 

enough  to  be  quite  certain  that  he  never  will  be  tractable 
or  serviceable  for  any  thing  but  mischief.  Tierney  is  now 
the  most  weighty  speaker,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and 
speaks  admirably  for  that  House.  Brougham  is  the  most 
powerful,  active,  and  formidable.  Canning  is  thought  to 
be  falling  off,  and  certainly  has  the  worst  of  it,  in  all  their 
encounters. 

As  to  plots  and  rebellions,  I  confess  I  am  exceedingly 
skeptical.  There  is  no  doubt  a  very  general  feeling  of  dis- 
content, and  something  which,  without  judicious  watching 
and  restraint,  might  lead  to  local  riots  and  disorders,  and 
occasion  the  shedding  of  some  foolish  blood ;  but  I  am  per- 
suaded that  it  is  not  impatience  of  oppression,  but  want,  that 
is  at  the  bottom  of  it ;  and  that  if  they  had  good  employment 
again,  they  would  soon  cease  to  talk  of  reform.  It  is  very 
right  to  take  even  excessive  precaution,  but  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  believe  that  it  was  necessary  to  suspend  the  con- 
stitution in  order  to  keep  the  peace.  Indeed,  the  general 
feeling  seems  now  to  be  so  much  against  these  violent 
measures,  that  I  should  look  with  confidence  for  their 
abolition  in  July,  were  it  not  so  difficult  to  get  houses  at 
that  season,  that  in  general  the  ministers  may  do  what  they 
please.  The  greatest  calamity  which  the  country  has  suf- 
fered is  in  the  loss  of  my  admirable  friend  Homer.  He 
died  about  six  weeks  ago  at  Pisa.  I  never  looked  for  any 
other  catastrophe  ;  but  the  accounts  which  had  come  home 
very  recently  before  had  excited  great  hopes  in  many  of 
his  friends.  I  have  not  known  any. death  in  my  time 
which  has  occasioned  so  deep  and  so  general  a  regret,  nor 
any  instance  in  which  there  has  been  so  warm  and  so  ho- 
nourable a  testimony  from  men  of  all  parties  to  the  merits 
of  a  private  individual.  Pray  read  the  account  of  what 
passed  in  the  House  on  moving  a  new  writ  for  his  borough, 
and  confess  that  we  are  nobler,  more  fair,  and  generous  in 
our  political  hostility,  than  any  nation  ever  was  before. 


136  LIFE  OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

It  is  really  quite  impossible  to  estimate  the  loss  which  the 
cause  of  liberal  and  practical  opinions  has  sustained  by  this 
death.  That  of  Fox  himself  was  less  critical  or  alarming; 
for  there  is  no  other  person  with  such  a  union  of  talent  and 
character  to  succeed  him.  I  for  my  part  have  lost  the 
kindest  friend,  and  the  most  exalted  model,  that  ever  any 
one  had  the  happiness  of  possessing.  This  blow  has  quite 
saddened  all  the  little  circle  in  which  he  was  head,  and  of 
•which  he  has  ever  been  the  pride  and  the  ornament ;  but 
it  is  too  painful  to  say  move  on  such  a  subject,  &c. 

By  the  way,  I  wanted  to  let  you  understand  a  little 
more  of  my  doctrine  as  to  the  bad  effects  of  indulgence, 
which  I  think  you  somewhat  misapprehend ;  but  I  have  n't 
time  at  present,  and  perhaps  I  may  take  occasion  to  set 
down  half  a  page  in  the  Review  on  that  subject.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  think  you  must  see  at  once  that  those  who 
have  never  been  accustomed  to  submit  to  privations  or  in- 
conveniences, will  find  it  more  difficult  to  do  so  when  it 
becomes  a  duty,  than  those  to  whom  such  sacrifices  have 
been  familiar.  Young  people  who  have  been  habitually 
gratified  in  all  their  desires  will  not  only  indulge  in  more 
capricious  desires,  but  will  infallibly  take  it  more  amiss 
when  the  feelings  or  happiness  of  others  require  that  they 
should  be  thwarted,  than  those  who  have  been  practically 
trained  to  the  habit  of  subduing  and  restraining  them,  and, 
consequently,  will  in  general  sacrifice  the  happiness  of  others 
to  their  own  selfish  indulgence.  To  what  else  is  the  self- 
ishness of  princes  and  other  great  people  to  be  attributed? 
It  is  in  vain  to  think  of  cultivating  principles  of  generosity 
and  beneficence  by  mere  exhortation  and  reasoning.  No- 
thing but  the  practical  habit  of  overcoming  our  own  selfish- 
ness, and  of  familiarly  encountering  privations  and  dis- 
comfort on  account  of  others,  will  ever  enable  us  to  do  it 
when  it  is  required.  And  therefore  I  am  firmly  persuaded 
*hat  indulgence  infallibly  produces  selfishness  and  hard- 
ness of  heart,  and  that  nothing  but  *  pretty  severe  disci- 


TO   JOHN    ALLEN.  137 

pline  and  control  can  lay  the  foundation  of  a  firm  and 
magnanimous  character,  £c. 

Give  my  best  love  to  all  your  family  and  to  Eliza.  I 
shall  write  often  to  you  during  the  vacation,  as  I  expect  to 
be  mostly  at  home,  and  to  live  a  quiet  domestic  life.  We 
shall  go  to  Craigcrook  in  ten  days  if  the  weather  be  good. 
It  is  bright  now,  but  rather  cold.  God  bless  you  ever,  my 
dear  friend. — Most  affectionately  yours. 

76. — To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  14th  March,  1817. 

My  dear  Allen — I  could  not  write  to  you  with  any  com- 
fort during  the  hurry  of  the  session  ;  indeed,  after  the  sad 
news  of  poor  Horner's  death,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  ad- 
dress any  thing  to  you,  either  upon  that  or  upon  indifferent 
subjects.  On  the  former,  there  is  nothing  new  to  be  said. 
Strangers  have  already  said  all  that  even  friends  "could 
desire, — and  it  seems  enough  to  be  one  of  the  public  to 
feel  the  full  weight  of  this  calamity.  What  took  place  in 
Parliament  seems  to  me  extremely  honourable  to  the  body  ; 
nor  do  I  believe  that  there  is,  or  ever  was,  a  great  divided 
political  assembly  where  so  generous  and  just  a  testimony 
could  have  been  borne  unanimously  to  personal  merit, 
joined,  especially  as  it  was  in  that  individual,  with  a  stern 
and  unaccommodating  disdain  of  all  sorts  of  baseness  or 
falsehood.  It  is  also  another  national  trait,  not  less  ho- 
nourable, I  think,  to  all  parties,  that  so  great  a  part  of 
the  eulogium-of  a  public  man,  and  in  a  public  assembly, 
should  have  been  made  to  rest  on  his  domestic  virtues  and 
private  affections.  His  parents  bear  this  great  calamity 
far  better  than  I  thought  they  would.  Even  the  first 
shock  was  less  overwhelming  than  might  have  been  appre- 
hended ;  and  now  they  are  sensibly  soothed  and  occupied 
with  the  condolences  of  his  numerous  friends.  I  wish 
some  memorial  of  such  a  life  could  be  collected.  In  par- 
ticular, I  think  many  of  his  letters  woul$  be  valuable. 

12* 


138  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

But  knowing  how  much  our  present  feelings  are  likely  to 
mislead  us  on  such  occasions,  I  am  satisfied  that  nothing 
of  a  public  nature  should  be  thought  of  for  a  considerable 
time.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  a  short  notice  and  cha- 
racter might  be  inserted  in  the  Supplement  to  the  Ency- 
clopaedia when  it  reaches  his  name.  This  will  not  be,  I 
believe,  for  a  year  or  fifteen  months  yet,  so  that  there  will 
be  time  enough  to  consider  of  it.  The  history  of  such  a 
progress  I  really  think  would  be  a  most  instructive  reading 
for  the  many  aspiring  young  men  into  whose  hands  that 
publication  is  likely  to  come. 

Now,  let  me  say  one  word  to  you  about  reviewing,  &c. — 
Very  faithfully  yours. 

77. — To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  27th  March,  1817. 

My  dear  Allen — It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  undertake  a 
review  for  me  on  any  terms,  and  it  would  be  most  ungrate- 
ful in  me  to  urge  you  much  as  to  time.  Will  three  weeks 
from  this  date  do  for  you  ?  By  that  time,  I  hope  to  be 
far  on  with  the  printing,  but  to  be  a  week  or  a  fortnight 
more  if  you  require  it.  I  foresee  I  shall  be  interrupted 
myself  with  those  unhappy  state  trials,*  and  am  likely 
enough  to  be  the  latest  of  the  whole.  Pray  be  as  popular 
as  you  can,  consistently  with  being  rational ;  and  be  most 
angry  at  the  knaves,  and  compassionate  of  the  fools.  One 
argument  you  will  naturally  consider  at  large.  I  mean 
the  favourite  one  of  Southey  and  the  rest,  that  the  power 
of  the  people  has  increased,  is  increasing,  and  ought  to  be 
diminished,  and  that  the  little  addition  made  to  the  influ- 
ence of  the  crown  by  the  war  and  taxes  is  but  a  slight 
counterbalance  to  that  increase.  Now,  the  great  fallacy 
here  is,  that  the  increase  of  weight  on  the  side  of  the 
people  consists  chiefly  in  an  increase  of  intelligence,  spirit, 

*  The  trials  of  Edgar,  Mackinlay,  &c.  at  Edinburgh. 


TO   JOHN    RICHARDSON.  139 

and  activity,  and  the  mere  wealth  and  influence  of  a  selfish 
kind  can  never  be  either  safely  or  properly  set  against  this 
sort  of  power  and  authority.  In  fact,  it  does  not  require 
to  be  counterbalanced  at  all;  for  it  leads,  not  to  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  commons  merely,  but  to  the  general  improve- 
ment ;  and  is  obnoxious,  not  in  any  degree  to  the  fair 
strength  and  dignity  of  the  crown,  but  only  to  its  corrup- 
tion and  abuses ;  and,  instead  of  being  neutralized  by 
giving  more  means  of  abuse  and  corruption  to  the  crown, 
it  is  exasperated  and  strengthened  by  it.  The  natural 
result  of  such  an  increase  of  popular  power  is  to  give  more 
direct  efficiency  to  their  agency  in  the  government ;  and 
the  only  way  to  prevent  this  change  in  the  state  of  society 
from  producing  disorder  is,  to  make  more  room  for  the 
people  in  the  constitution,  not  to  swell  out  the  bloated  bulk 
of  the  crown.  I  have  said  something  to  this  purpose  in 
the  close  of  a  long  article  on  reform,  I  think  on  occasion 
of  Windham's  speech ;  but  it  now  deserves  to  be  brought 
more  into  view. 

I  shall  be  very  proud  of  being  thought  worthy  of  draw- 
ing up  a  short  view  of  Horner's  career  for  the  Encyclo- 
paedia. Wishaw  will  do  the  longer  work  with  perfect 
judgment  and  good  taste  ;  but  I  own  I  should  have  wished 
the  task  in  the  hands  of  one  who  dealt  in  a  little  warmer 
colouring,  and  was  not  quite  so  severe  an  artist. — Ever 
most  truly  yours. 

Is  it  not  universally  thought  among  English  lawyers 
that  the  proceedings  in  Muir's  and  Palmer's  cases  were 
against  law  and  justice  ?  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  them 
referred  to  now  as  precedents  of  weight  and  binding  au- 
thority. 

78. — To  John  Richardson,  Esq. 

Craigcrook,  24th  July,  1817. 

My  dear  R. — I  wish  you  joy  of  the  end  of  the  session, 
in  which  I  too  am  rejoicing  in  my  provincial  way.  Cock- 


140  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

burn  says  you  do  not  intend  to  come  down  to  us  this  year 
— which,  I  think,  is  vicious,  and  therefore  I  hope  not  true. 
We  have  your  old  room  for  you  here,  and  a  new  study  in 
progress,  to  the  embellishment  of  which  you  may  immor- 
talize yourself  by  contributing.  I  have  also  a  whole  wil- 
derness of  roses,  and  my  shrubs  are  now  so  tall  as  not  to 
be  easily  seen  over.  Moreover,  my  whole  lawn  is  green 

with  potatoes,  and  the wood  is  going  down  this 

autumn.  If  all  this  will  not  tempt  you,  I  do  not  know 
what  we  shall  do.  I  have  got  twelve  dozen  of  old  claret 
in  my  old  cellar,  and  am  meditating  upon  an  ice-house  ; 
and  I  am  going  to  buy  a  large  lot  of  the  old  books  at 
Herbertshire ;  and  my  little  girl  speaks  the  nicest  broad 
Scotch  ;  and  we  have  as  little  finery  and  parade  about  us 
as  in  the  old  days  of  poor  Jamie  Grahame  and  the  Hills. 
Do  come  and  be  jolly  for  a  week  or  two. 

Tell  me  what  Tommy  Campbell  is  about;  and  what  Old 
Bags  says  for  himself,  for  not  deciding  our  Queensberry 
case  after  all.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Rutherfurd  made 
a  good  speech.  Pray  tell  me  how  it  was.  He  is  a  judi- 
cious, ambitious,  painstaking  fellow.  His  faults  are  the 
very  opposite  of  Clerk's  and  the  old  school.  I  do  not 
know  if  you  are  much  acquainted  with  him  in  private.  He 
is  full  of  honour  and  right  feelings. 

We  have  at  length  finally  demolished  the  Lord-Advo- 
cate's state  prosecution,  you  will- see — and  in  a  way  really 
a  little  scandalous  to  the  vanquished.  I  am  afraid  they 
will  hear  more  of  this  hereafter ;  for  I  cannot  find  in  my 
heart  either  to  hate  or  to  think  very  ill  of  them;  and  I 
believe  they  will  even  do  less  mischief  than  more  vigorous 
men  might  do.  You  see  nothing  will  drive  me  out  of  my 
tolerating  and  moderate  system  of  politics.  Pray  remem- 
ber us  most  kindly  to  Mrs.  R.  and  the  little  ones.  God 
bless  you. — Most  affectionately  yours. 

.'v  !-—,#' t*U».*£ 

!*:.-  ^ 


TO   DR.    CHALMERS".  141 


79.—  To  Dr.  Chalmers. 

Edinburgh,  25th  July,  1817. 

Dear  Sir — It  is  but  lately  that  I  knew  of  your  return 
to  your  own  place,  and  it  is  still  more  lately  that  I  have 
been  so  far  freed  of  my  professional  avocations  as  to  have 
leisure  for  more  agreeable  duties.  It  is  rather  late,  I  am 
sensible,  to  thank  you  again  for  the  very  valuable  and  im- 
portant contribution  you  made  to  the  last  number  of  the 
Review,*  and  compliments  upon  its  merits  never  could 
have  so  poor  a  chance  for  acceptance  as  now,  when  y6u 
have  just  been  collecting  the  tribute  of  far  more  weighty 
applause  for  still  more  splendid  exertions.  I  come  back, 
however,  to  my  text,  and  as  I  believe  I  first  tempted  you 
to  dip  your  pen  in  our  ink  by  the  prospect  of  doing  an  im- 
portant service  to  society,  so  I  am  not  without  hopes  of 
inducing  you  to  repeat  your  contributions  by  the  same 
powerful  consideration.  What  we  have  already  published 
has  excited  great  attention,  and  done,  I  am  persuaded, 
much  good;  but  those  to  whom  the  doctrines  are  new  do 
not  yet  sufficiently  understand  them,  and  those  who  are 
hoscile  to  them  still  fancy  that  they  have  objections  that 
have  not  been  answered.  I  am  myself  quite  satisfied  that 
an  article  on  the  same  subject  every  quarter,  or  at  least 
every  six  months,  would  be  requisite  to  give  fair  play  to 
the  argument,  and  to  render  just  views  with  regard  to  it 
familiar  and  fair  in  general  conception.  And  also  that 
by  this  means  the  great  end  might  be  pretty  certainly 
attained  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  years.  My  opinion 
is,  that  it  would  be  extremely  desirable  to  have  another 
article,  defending,  explaining,  and  carrying  into  practical 
illustration,  the  principles  suggested  in  the  former,  inserted 
in  the  number  of  the  Review  which  I  expect  to  put  to 
press  in  about  ten  days,  and  to  publish  about  the  end  of 

*  No.  55,  art.  1,  on  the  Causes  and  Cure  of  Pauperism. 


142  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

August;  and  I  venture,  under  this  impression,  to  ask 
whether  you  could  possibly  undertake  this  further  labour 
in  so  good  a  cause.  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  the  magni- 
tude of  the  request  I  now  make,  and  therefore  I  make  it 
plainly  and  at  once — with  an  assurance  that  my  motives 
for  hazarding  it  will  not  be  misunderstood,  and  that  no- 
thing I  could  add  in  the  form  of  solicitation  would  be 
likely  to  succeed  if  you  can  resist  your  own  sense  of  their 
urgency. 

I  shall  probably  be  in  Glasgow  early  in  the  autumn,  and 
shall  be  much  mortified  if  I  am  again  prevented  from  gra- 
tifying myself  by  a  sight  of  you.  Is  there  no  chance  of 
your  being  in  this  neighbourhood  while  this  fine  weather 
lasts?  It  would  be  extremely  obliging  in  you  to  give  me 
a  little  previous  notice  of  your  coming. 

In  the  mean  time  may  I  hope  to  hear  from  you?  Be- 
lieve me  always  your  obliged  and  very  faithful  servant. 

80.—  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Craigcrook  House,  9th  May,  1818. 

My  dear  Friend — I  began  my  vacation  by  writing  you 
a  long  letter,  and  I  shall  end  it  in  the  same  virtuous  man- 
ner, for  we  move  into  town  to-morrow,  and  my  labours 
begin  the  day  after.  We  have  had  some  idleness  and 
tranquillity  here,  and  about  seven  fine  days,  but  it  has  been 
a  sad  season  on  the  whole,  first  with  cold  and  then  with 
wet;  and  as  I  am  laying  down  my  twelve  acres  in  grass,  I 
have  had  my  fair  share  of  a  young  farmer's  anxieties  and 
mortifications.  However,  I  bear  all  my  trials  manfully,  and 
when  I  cannot  be  quite  resigned  I  try  to  make  a  joke  of 
them.  Neither  Charley  nor  I  understand  much  about  rain 
or  dirt,  and  we  are  both  so  fond  of  woodlands  and  moun- 
tains that  we  have  scarcely  missed  a  dc,y  without  trudging 
out,  and  climbing  away  among  mists  and  showers  and 
oraggy  places,  with  scarcely  a  primrose  to  cheer  us,  and 
nothing  but  the  loneliness  and  freshness  of  the  scene  to 


TO   CHARLES    WILKES.  143 

put  us  in  good  humour.  It  has  long  been  my  opinion  that 
those  who  have  a  genuine  love  for  nature  and  rural 
scenery  are  very  easily  pleased,  and  that  it  is  not  easy  to 
find  any  asp.ect  of  the  sky  or  the  earth  from  which  they 
will  not  borrow  delight.  For  my  own  part,  condemned  as 
I  am  to  a  great  deal  of  town  life,  there  is  something  deli- 
cious to  me  in  the  sound  even  of  a  biting  east  wind  among 
my  woods;  and  the  sight  of  a  clear  spring  bubbling  from 
a  rock,  and  the  smell  of  the  budding  pines  and  the  com- 
mon field  daisies,  and  the  cawing  of  my  rooks,  and  the 
cooing  of  my  cushats,  are  almost  enough  for  me — so  at 
least  I  think  to-day,  which  is  a  kind  of  parting  day  for 
them,  and  endears  them  all  more  than  ever.  Do  not 
imagine,  however,  that  we  have  nothing  better,  for  we  have 
now  hyacinths,  auriculas,  and  anemones,  in  great  glory, 
besides  sweetbrier,  and  wallflowers  in  abundance,  and  blue 
gentians  and  violets,  and  plenty  of  rose  leaves,  though  no 
flowers  yet,  and  apple-blossoms  and  sloes  all  around. 

I  have  been  enlarging  my  domain  a  little,  chiefly  by 
getting  in  a  good  slice  of  the  wood  on  the  hill,  which  was 
formerly  my  boundary.  My  field  went  square  up  to  it  be- 
fore in  this  way : — now  I  have  thrown 
my  fence  back  100  yards  into  the  wood, 
so  as  to  hide  it  entirely,  and  to  bring 
the  wood  down  into  the  field ;  and  to  do  this  gracefully, 
I  am  cutting  deep  scoops  and  bays  into  it,  with  the 
fence  buried  in  the  wood.  It  is  a  great  mass  of  wood, 
you  will  remember,  clothing  all  the  upper  paVt  of  a 
hill  more  than  a  mile  long,  and  300  feet  high ;  not  very 
old  nor  fine  wood — about  forty  years  old,  but  well  mixed 
of  all  kinds,  and  quite  thick  and  spiry.  If  you  do  not 
understand  this,  you  must  come  and  see  it,  for  my  pen 
and  pencil  can  no  further  go. 

Well,  but  I  must  leave  Craigcrook  and  this  pastoral  vein, 
and  condescend  to  tell  you  that  Charley  and  the  babe  are 
both  perfectly  well,  and  so  am  I,  &c.  I  am  rather  impa- 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

tient  to  make  a  little  money  now,  and  often  find  myself 
calculating  how  soon,  at  my  present  rate  of  saving,  I  may 
venture  to  release  myself  from  the  drudgery  of  my  profes- 
sion, &c.  I  am  sufficiently  aware  that  my  gains  are  in 
some  degree  precarious,  and,  after  all,  though  I  please 
myself  with  views  of  retirement  and  leisure,  and  travelling 
and  reading,  I  am  by  no  means  perfectly  sure  that  I  should 
be  much  happier  in  that  state  than  my  present  one. 
Having  long  set  my  standard  of  human  felicity  at  a  very 
moderate  pitch,  an^d  persuaded  myself  that  men  are  con- 
siderably lower  than  angels,  I  am  not  much  given  to  dis- 
content, and  am  sufficiently  sensible  that  many  things  that 
appear  and  are  irksome  and  vexatious,  are  necessary  to 
help  life  along.  A  little  more  sleep,  and  a  little  more  time 
to  travel  and  read,  I  certainly  should  like,  and  be  better 
for ;  but,  placed  as  I  am,  I  must  do  the  whole  task  that  is 
appointed  for  me,  or  more.  And  there  is  some  excitement 
and  foolish  vanity  in  doing  a  great  deal,  and  coming  off 
whole  and  hearty.  God  help  us,  it  is  a  foolish  little  thing 
this  human  life  at  the  best ;  and  it  is  half  ridiculous  and 
half  pitiful  to  see  what  importance  we  ascribe  to  it,  and  to 
its  little  ornaments  and  distinctions,  &c. 

.  We  have  not  heard  very  lately  of  the  Simonds ;  they 
were  then  at  Rome,  and  talked  of  going  to  the  Tyrol  in 
spring  and  summer.  I  shall  never  be  done  lamenting  his 
change  of  politics.  General  philanthropy,  and  a  calm  dis- 
trust and  disdain  of  all  actual  administrations,  was  the  only 
thing  for  him.  He  has  not  temper  for  a  partisan,  and 
ceases  to  be  amiable  in  the  heart,  at  the  same  time  that  he 
becomes  a  little  ridiculous.  I  am  in  some  hopes,  however, 
that  Italy  may  disgust  him  with  restorations  and  legitimacy ; 
though  I  fear  he  has  too  much  talent  not  to  find  apolo- 
gies for  every  thing.  Perhaps  I  regret  his  departure  from 
his  original  creecL  more,  because  with  a  little  more  tolera- 
tion for  active  politicians,  and  a  little  more  faith  in  the  uses 
of  faction,  it  is  very  nearly  my  own.  Our  English  politics 


TO    CHARLES    AVILKES.  145 

are  not  very  respectable.  This  last  session  of  Parliament 
has  been,  on  the  whole,  humiliating  and  alarming  to  all 
•who  care  about  liberty.  The  rejection  of  the  Prince's  Es- 
tablishment Act,  though  quite  right  in  itself,  is  of  little 
comfort,  and  only  shows  that  they  are  personally  unpopu- 
lar, and  that  the  nation  will  not  give  money  to  the  govern- 
ment, though  it  will  give  every  thing  else.  This  reminds 
one  of  the  base  times  of  Henry  VII.,  when  the  court  could 
command  all  but  the  purse  of  the  people.  Our  degraded 
state  is  owing  partly,  no  doubt,  to  the  disunion  of  the 
Whigs,  and  their  want  of  a  leader,  and  to  the  policy  of  the 
government  in  choosing  blackguards  and  Jacobins  as  its 
immediate  victims ;  but  the  evil  is  far  deeper,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  nation  pitiably  broken.  It  is  no  matter. 

10th  May. — I  spent  all  the  rest  of  yesterday,  after 
writing  these  pages  to  you,  in  the  open  air  with  Charley 
alone.  We  expected  some  friends  to  finish  our  week  with 
us^  but  luckily  they  did  not  come,  and  we  passed  the  whole 
day  and  evening  in  delightful  tranquillity.  To-day  it  is  as 
fine.  The  larches  are  lovely,  and  the  sycamores  in  full 
flush  of  rich  fresh  foliage, — the  air  as  soft  as  new  milk, — 
and  the  sky  so  flecked  with  little  pearly  clouds,  full  of 
larks,  that  it  is  quite  a  misery  to  be  obliged  to  wrangle  in 
courts,  and  sit  up  half  the  night  over  dull  papers.  We 
shall  come  out  here,  however,  every  Saturday,  so  that  I 
am  at  least  as  clamorous  in  my  grief  as  there  is  any  need 
for. 

Remember  me  most  kindly  to  Fanny  and  Anne.  I  am 
a  little  mortified  that  they  should  think  it  a  formidable 
thing  to  write  to  me,  but  perhaps  they  will  have  more  cou- 
rage by-and-by.  In  the  mean  time  I  shall  write  again  to 
them  as  soon  as  I  have  an  instant's  leisure. 

I  am  growing  a  sad  defaulter  about  the  Review.    Surely 

I  did  not  say  I  wrote  the  Bentham.     It  is  the  work  of  a 

much  greater  person,  whom  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  name, 

•and  not  one-third  of  it  is  mine.     Moore  is  not  generally 

VOL.  II.— 13  K 


146  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

thought  overpraised ;  and  I  have  various  letters  from  his 
friends,  abusing  me  for  it  as  for  a  covered  attack.  He 
himself  does  not  think  so,  and  has  no  reason.  God  bless 
you.  Now,  write  soon  to  us. — From  most  affectionately 
yours. 

81.— To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Tarbet,  5th  August,  1818. 

My  dear  Friend — Here  we  are  in  a  little  inn  on  the  banks 
of  Loch  Lomond,  in  the  midst  of  the  mists  of  the  mountains, 
the  lakes,  heaths,  rocks,  and  cascades  which  have  been  my 
passion  since  I  was  a  boy ;  and  to  which,  like  a  boy,  I  have 
run  away  the  instant  I  could  get  my  hands  clear  of  law,  and 
review,  arid  Edinburgh.  We  have  been  here  for  four  days, 
and  Charlotte  is  at  least  as  much  enchanted  with  the  life  we 
live  as  I  am  ;  and  yet  it  is  not  a  life  that  most  ladies  with 
a  spark  of  fineness  in  them  would  think  very  delightful. 
They  have  no  post-horses  in  the  Highlands,  and  we  sent 
away  those  that  brought  us  here,  with  orders  to  come  back 
for  us  to-morrow,  and  so  we  are  left  without  a  servant, 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  natives.  The  first  day  we 
walked  about  ten  miles  over  wet  heath  and  slippery  rocks, 
and  sailed  five  or  six  on  the  lake  in  a  steamboat,  which 
surprised  us  as  we  were  sitting  in  a  lonely  wild  little  bay, 
sheltering  ourselves  from  a  summer  shower  under  a  hang- 
ing copse.  It  is  a  new  experiment  that  for  the  temptation 
of  tourists.  It  circumnavigates  the  whole  lake  every  day 
in  about  ten  hours ;  and  it  was  certainly  very  strange  and 
striking  to  hear  and  see  it  hissing  and  roaring  past  the 
headlands  of  our  little  bay,  foaming  and  spouting  like  an 
angry  whale ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  think  it  rather  vulgar- 
izes the  scene  too  much,  and  I  am  glad  that  it  is  found  not 
to  answer,  and  is  to  be  dropped  next  year.  Well  then,  the 
day  after,  we  lounged  about  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morn- 
ing, then  skimmed  across  the  lake  in  a  little  skiff,  and 
took  to  climbing  up  the  hill  in  good  earnest.  This,  I 


TO    CHARLES    WILKES.  147 

assure  you,  is  no  fine  lady's  work.  It  is  3400  feet  high, 
with  an  ascent  of  near  five  miles,  very  rough,  wet,  and 
rocky  in  many  places ;  and  Charley  had  fine  slipping,  and 
stumbling,  and  puffing,  before  she  got  to  the  top.  How- 
ever, by  the  help  of  the  guide's  whisky  and  my  own,  she 
got  through  very  safe  and  proud  at  last.  For  more  than 
2000  feet  the  air  was  quite  clear,  but  a  thick  fog  rested 
on  the  top,  and  but  for  the  glory  of  the  thing,  we  might 
have  stopped  where  it  began.  The  prospect,  however, 
became  very  grand  and  singular  before  it  was  quite 
swallowed  up.  The  whole  landscape  took  a  strange  silvery 
skyish  tint,  from  the  thin  vale  of  vapour  in  which  it  began 
to  sink  ;  and  some  distant  mountains,  on  which  the  sun 
continued  to  shine,  assumed  the  most  delicate  and  tender 
green  colour  you  ever  saw,  while  the  water  of  the  lake, 
with  all  its  islands,  seemed  lifted  up  to  the  level  of  the 
eye,  and  the  whole  scene  to  be  wavering  in  the  skies,  like 
what  is  described  of  the  fata  morgana  in  Sicily.  We  all 
fell  twenty  times  in  our  descent,  and  were  completely 
besmeared  with  mud,  which  was  partly  washed  away  by  a 
fine  milky  shower  which  fell  upon  us  as  we  again  crossed 
over  in  our  boat.  The  day  after,  we  walked  good  twelve 
miles  before  dinner,  up  to  the  wildest  and  least  frequented 
end  of  the  lake,  making  various  detours,  and  discovering 
at  every  turn  the  most  enchanting  views  and  recesses.  In 
the  evening  we  rowed  down  the  smooth  glassy  margin  of 
the  water  to  a  gentleman's  house  a  mile  or  two  off,  and 
walked  home  in  the  twilight.  I  will  not  fatigue  you  by 
telling  you  what  we  have  done  to-day,  but  it  is  nearly  .as 
great ;  and  the  beauty  of  it  is,  that  we  are  perfectly  well, 
and  quite  delighted  with  our  perseverance ;  so  much  so, 
indeed,  that  C.  declares  she  will  come  back  earlier  next 
year,  and  stay  twice  as  long,  there  being  fifty  valleys  and 
little  lakes  that  she  has  marked  out  ior  exploring,  and 
which  we  nave  not  been  able  to  reach.  I  assure  you,  you. 
are  no  loser  by  these  excursions,  -for  neither  of  us  ever  see 


148  LIFE   OJT   LOKD  JEFFREY. 

any  thing  very  charming  but  we  resolve  to  bring  you  to  see 
it;  and  I,  with  true  Scottish  partiality,  am  always  ima- 
gining that  you  will  riot  admire  our  beauties  enough,  and 
considering  with  what  persuasions  or  reproaches  I  shall 
convert  you,  &c. 

Glasgow,  1th. — We  got  back  here  yesterday,  safe  and 
sound,  and  had  the  happiness,  among  other  things,  to  find 
your  kind  letter  of  the  9th  July,  &c. 

You  see  I  am  sending  all  my  treasure  to  you,  and  of 
course  my  heart  will  be  there  too ;  and  I  really  think  my 
body  will  one  day  follow.  If  I  can  go  on  as  I  am  now 
doing  for  eight  or  nine  years  more,  I  think  I  may  emanci- 
pate myself  from  the  necessity  either  of  working  or  residing 
always  in  this  place ;  and  if  I  were  free  to  move,  I  rather 
think  that,  after  a  hasty  glance  at  Italy,  I  'should  be 
tempted  to  take  another  and  far  more  leisurely  survey 
of  America.  You,  of  course,  would  be  rny  main  attrac- 
tion ;  but  I  cannot  help  taking  a  very  warm  and  eager  in- 
terest in  the  fortunes  of  your  people.  There  is  nothing, 
and  never  was  any  thing,  so  grand  and  so  promising  as  the 
condition  and  prospects  of  your  country ;  and  nothing  I 
conceive  more  certain  than  that  in  seventy  years  after  this 
its  condition  will  be  by  far  the  most  important  element  in 
the  history  of  Europe.  It  is  very  provoking  that  we  can- 
not live  to  see  it ;  but  it  is  very  plain  to  me  that  the  French 
revolution,  or  rather  perhaps  the  continued  operation  of 
the  causes  which  produced  that  revolution,  has  laid  the 
foundations,  over  all  Europe,  of  an  inextinguishable  and 
fatal  struggle  between  popular  rights  and  ancient  esta- 
blishments— between  democracy  and  tyranny — between 
legitimacy  and  representative  government,  which  may  in- 
volve the  world  in  sanguinary  conflicts  for  fifty  years,  and 
may  also  end,  after  all,, in  the  establishment  of  a  brutal 
and  military  despotism  for  a  hundred  more  ;  but  must  end, 
I  think,  in  the  triumph  of  reason  over  prejudice,  and  the 
Infinite  amelioration  of  all  politics,  and  the  elevation  of  all 


TO   CHARLES    WILKES.  149 

national  character.  Now  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the 
example  of  America,  and  the  influence  and  power  which 
she  will  every  year  be  more  and  more  able  to  exert,  will 
have  a  most  potent  and  incalculably  beneficial  effect,  both 
in  shortening  this  conflict,  in  rendering  it  less  sanguinary, 
and  in  insuring  and  accelerating  its  happy  termination.  I 
take  it  for  granted  that  America,  either  as  one  or  as'many 
states,  will  always  remain  free,  and  consequently  prosper- 
ous and  powerful.  She  will  naturally  take  the  side  of 
liberty  therefore  in  the  great  European  contest — and  while 
her  growing  power  and  means  of  compulsion  will  intimi- 
date its  opponents,  the  example  not  only  of  the  practica- 
bility, but  of  the  eminent  advantages,  of  a  system  of  per- 
fect freedom,  and  a  disdain  and  objuration  of  all  prejudices, 
and — (illegible) — cannot  fail  to  incline  the  great  body  of 
all  intelligent  communities  to  its  voluntary  adoption. 
-  These  are  my  anticipations ;  and  is  it  not  a  pity  that  I 
have  no  chance  of  living  to  see  them  verified  ?  However, 
they  amuse  one  very  well  at  present,  and  perhaps  we  may 
be  indulged  with  a  peep  out  of  some  other  world,  while 
they  are  in  a  course  of  fulfilment.  One  thing,  however, 
is  certain,  that  they,  and  some  other  considerations,  give 
me  the  greatest  possible  interest  in  the  prosperity,  the 
honour,  and  the  happiness  of  your  part  of  the  world.  I 
am  afraid  that  my  habits,  and  the  tastes  in  manners,  litera- 
ture, and  tone  of  discussion,  while  they  have  hardened, 
would  prevent  me  from  living  so  happily,  on  the  whole,  in 
America  as  in  this  old  corrupted  world  of  ours.  Indeed, 
to  say  the  truth,  I  do  not  think  I  could  bear  to  live  and 
die  anywhere  but  in  Scotland.  But  on  public  grounds  I 
am  as  much  concerned  for  America  as  for  Scotland,  and 
would  rather  live  there  than  in  any  foreign  or  enslaved 
portion  of  the  old  world,  however  elegant  or  refined.  There 
is  a  long  dissertation  for  yoa  ;  but  the  end-  of  it  is,  that  in 
nine  or  ten  years  I  shall  come  and  stay  a  long  while  with 
you ;  and  the  reasonable  result  is,  that  as  that  is  a  great 

13* 


150  LIFE   OF    LOKD    .IEFFUEX. 

deal  too  long  to  wait  for  a  meeting,  and  as  you  are  still 
older  than  me,  and  can  still  less  afford  therefore  to  wait, 
you  must  shorten  it  by  coming  and  staying  a  long  while 
•with  us  in  two  or  three  years  at  the  furthest. — Most  af- 
fectionately yours. 

82.— To  Charle9  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Glasgow,  5th  May,  1819. 

My  dear  Friend — I  always  write  you  a  long  letter  when 
I  come  here ;  but  I  have  a  stronger  reason  than  usual  to- 
day, as  we  have  just  got  your  letters  of  the  9th  April,  with 
all  their  news  and  kindness.  And  first  of  all,  we  must 
congratulate  Fanny,* — not  certainly  on  having  a  lover, 
which  I  suppose  has  been  her  case  for  these  ten  years  past, 
but  on  being  in  love,  which  is  a  very  delightful  novelty, 
and  not  a  little  agreeable  when  it  ceases  to  be  new,  as  I 
can  say  with  some  assurance,  after  having  been  in  that 
state,  with  little  interruption,  for  near  thirty  years.  As 
to  the  youth,  it  is  certainly  very  fortunate  that  his  charac- 
ter and  prospects  are  such  as  to  please  you ;  and  for  the 
little  dash  of  democracy,  I  confess  I  am  rather  glad  of  it, 
as  I  think  your  intolerance  of  those  worthy  citizens  is  the 
only  illiberal  thing  about  you,  and  am  sure  that,  with  your 
inherent  fairness  and  good-nature,  nothing  more  can  be 
necessary  for  you  to  get  over  it  than  to  be  brought  into 
contact  and  amicable  relation  with  some  of  the  better  speci- 
mens. Entre  nous,  however,  the  Life  of  Fulton  is — bad 
as  possible ;  and  after  reading  it  with  a  design  of  contra- 
dicting the  Quarterly,  if  possible,  I  ended  by  agreeing  with 
them.  Give  my  kindest  love  to  Fan.  on  this  occasion,  and 
tell  her  that  if  she  has  half  as  much  genius  for  matrimony 
and  domestic  life  as  Charlotte,  she  may  venture  on  it  with 
great  safety  as  soon  as  she  pleases.  I  am  not  sure  that 
this  event  betters  our  chance  of  seeing  you  here,  at  least 

*  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  sister,  afterward  Mrs.  Golden. 


TO    CHARLES    WILKES.  151 

unless  you  come  soon  ;  for  though  you  may  be  more  secure 
in  having  the  giddiest  of  your  charges  safe  under  the  con- 
trol of  a  husband,  and  the  rest  under  that  of  so  sage  a  matron, 
still,  I  am  afraid,  that  when  there  cornea  to  be  a  litter  of 
American  grandchildren,  (0  fie,  how  indelicate !)  the  squalls 
of  each  of  which  you  know  in  the  dark,  your  poor  little 
Scotch  grand-daughter,  whose  sweet  little  Doric  note  you 
never  heard  in  your  life,  will  come  to  have  less  attraction, 
and  one's  whooping-cough  and  another's  measles  will  serve 
grandpapa  for  an  excuse  to  be  lazy  and  unnatural  all  the 
rest  of  his  life.  So  I  would  advise  you  to  break  off  before 
those  new  fetters  are  forged  for  you,  and  come  away  to  us 
sober  and  married  people  while  the  other  are  too  happy  to 
miss  you. 

We  are  all  pretty  well  here, — all  quite  well  indeed,  except 
little  Charley,  &c. 

With  all  my  good  spirits,  I  am  the  most  apprehensive 
and  serious  being  alive ;  so  I  daresay  I  give  more  import- 
ance to  these  things  than  they  deserve.  We  shall  write 
again  in  a  week  or  ten  days,  when  I  think  she  will  be  quite 
restored,  &c. 

I  have  just  got  done  with  another  Review.  I  have  more 
vamping  and  patching  than  writing.  That  of  Rogers's  lit- 
tle poem  and  Campbell's  specimens  are  all  I  have  written 
wholly ;  though  there  is  more  of  my  hand  than  there  should 
be  in  the  very  long  article  on  the  abuse  of  charities. 

I  am  afraid  I  said  something  impertinent  to  you  about 
that  review  of  Byron.  It  has  some  warmth  and  talent  cer- 
tainly; but  the  taste  is  execrable,  and  there  is  an  utter 
want  of  sense,  which  is  ruinous  to  any  thing  of  the  sort  in 
European  judgments.  The  mot  in  London  on  the  occasion 
was,  that  it  had  lowered  the  authority  of  the  Review  at 
least  twenty  per  cent,  in  all  matters  poetical.  But  I  sup-- 
pose you  are  not  so  sensitive  at  New  York.  I  hope  you 
have  read  Mackintosh's  paper  by  this  time.  There  is  a 
great  deal  in  it  applicable  to  America,  and  what  I  think 


152  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

should  attract  notice  among  your  politicians,  if  it  is  not  too 
much  above  their  pitch.  I  am  sorry  your  congress  has  dis- 
graced itself  by  the  decision  on case.  It  has  thrown 

you  back  twenty-five  years  at  least  in  the  estimation  of 
European  politicians,  raised  great  doubt  as  to  the  expedien- 
cy of  any  republican  government,  and  given  great  plausi- 
bility to  the  doctrine  of  those  who  refuse  to  recognise  you 
as  part  of  the  great  system  of  civilized  government.  A 
more  audacious,  ignorant,  and  blackguard  determination 
was  never  given  by  a  legislative  assembly.  Nobody  has 
regretted  it  more  than  I  have  done. 

The  Simonds,  I  take  it,  are  now  at  Paris.  Louis  (Simond) 
is  an  ultra, — a  very  honest  one,  I  admit,  and  likely  enough 
to  give  offence  to  his  followers,  but  ultra  enough  to  hate 
and  persecute  the  adherents  of  a  different  sort  of  absolute 
monarch, — a  distruster  of  liberty,  in  short ;  and,  under  pre- 
tence of  hating  faction  and  cabal,  one  who  would  put  down 
all  the  movements  of  a  free  people,  and  substitute  his  own 
wisdom  in  place  of  the  wishes  of  a  nation.  I  really  do  not 
know  one  more  arbitrary  in  his  principles  of  government; 
and  he  thinks  it  a  sufficient  justification  that  the  object  is 
to  do  them  good;  which  has  been  the  object  of  some  of  the 
most  intolerant  tyrants  that  the  world  ever  saw.  Fortu- 
nately for  himself  and  his  country,  he  has  no  great  chance- 
of  having  power  in  it,  and  is  likely  enough  to  be  disgusted 
with  those  who  have.  But  I  will  hold  an  equal  bet  that  he 
disapproves  of  the  late  proceedings  of  the  ministry.  In 
short,  with  the  best  intentions  and  feelings  in  the  world,  he 
is  utterly  unfit  for  practical  politics,  &c. — Most  affection- 
ately yours. 

83.— To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

Minto,  24th  August,  1819. 

My  dear  Friend — When  I  left  Charlotte  last  week  I 
promised  to  write  you  a  long  letter  before  my  return,  and 
though  I  am  particularly  lazy  when  I  am  from  home,  I  have 


TO   CHARLES    WILKES. 

a  pleasure  in  performing  my  promise.     I  am  on  my  way 
back  from  Brougham,  &c. 

We  are  not  in  a  good  state  in  England,  and  I  sometimes 
fear  that  tragical  scenes  may  be  before  us.  My  notions  of 
parliamentary  reform  are  in  the  Review ;  and  I  am  per- 
fectly clear  that  it  would  have  no  effect  at  all  in  relieving 
even  present  distresses.  Yet  of  late  I  cannot  help  doubt- 
ing whether  some  reform  has  not  become  necessary — if  it 
were  only  to  conciliate  and  convince  the  people.  If  they 
are  met  only  with  menaces  and  violence  we  shall  be  drenched 
in  blood,  and  the  result  will  be  a  more  arbitrary,  and  op- 
pressive, and  despicable  government — leading  ultimately 
perhaps  to  a  necessary  and  salutary,  but  sanguinary  revo- 
lution. Our  present  radical  evil  is  the  excess  of  our  pro- 
ductive power — the  want  of  demand  for  our  manufactures 
and  industry;  or,  in  other  words,  the  excess  of  our  popula- 
tion ;  and  for  this  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  radical  remedy 
but  starving  out  the  surplus,  horrible  as  it  is.  For  emigra- 
tion can  do  comparatively  nothing ;  and  the  excess  of  pro- 
duction arising,  not  from  any  temporary  slackness  of  the 
natural  demand,  but  from  the  improvement  of  machinery 
and  skill,  which  has  enable.d  one  man  to  do  the  work  of  at 
least  100,  and  that  all  over  the  improved  part  of  the  world ; 
and  consequently  enabled  all  those  who  formerly  found 
employment,  to  produce  ten  times  as  much  as  any  possible 
increase  of  consumption  can  take  off  their  hands,  it  is  plain- 
ly impossible  that  it  can  be  cured  by  any  change  in  our 
commercial  relations.  It  may  seem  a  strange  paradox  to 
mention,  but  I  am  myself  quite  persuaded  of  its  truth,  that, 
in  our  artificial  society,  the  consequence  of  those  great  dis- 
coveries and  improvements  which  render  human  industry 
so  much  more  productive,  and  should  therefore  render  all 
human  comforts  so  much  more  attainable,  must  be  to  plunge 
the  greater  part  of  society  into  wretchedness,  and  ulti- 
mately to  depopulate  the  countries  where  they  prevail. 
Nothing  but  a  thorough  and  le veiling*  agrarian  law,  or  the 


154  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

discovery  of  some  means  of  increasing  food  in  the  same 
proportion  as  other  commodities,  can  avoid  this  conse- 
quence. But  we  shall  talk  of  this  when  we  meet.  It  is 
not  worth  while  to  write  about  it. 

84.— To  Dr.  Chalmers. 

Edinburgh,  21st  December,  1819. 

My  dear  Sir — I  have  read  your  pamphlet*  with  great 
pleasure  and  full  assent.  I  cannot  say  on  this  occasion 
that  you  have  made  a  convert  of  me,  for  my  sentiments 
have  always  been  in  unison  with  those  which  you  express, 
both  as  to  the  peculiar  advantages  of  our  system  of  paro- 
chial education,  and  as  to  the  causes  which  have  deprived 
our  great  towns  of  most  of  its  benefits.  The  reasoning  in 
the  last  six  or  seven  pages  of  your  pamphlet  I  take  to  be 
as  sound  and  convincing  as  the  eloquence  with  which  it  is 
expressed  is  admirable  and  touching. 

The  only  thing  to  be  doubted  or  questioned  is,  whether  the 
evil  has  not  got  to  too  great  a  head  to  be  now  successfully 
combated.  But  zeal  and  talents  like  yours  have  already 
wrought  greater  works  than  this ;  and  it  is  extremely  com- 
fortable to  think  that  the  effort  is  not  only  not  intermina- 
ble, as  you  have  well  remarked,  but  that  even  its  partial 
success  will  be  attended  with  great  benefits,  and  that  every 
school  established  upon  right  principles  will  not  only  be  a 
pattern  and  an  incitement  to  others,  but  will  at  all  events, 
and  of  itself,  do  a  great  deal  of  permanent  good. 

If  you  should  want  any  extra  parochial  aid,  I  shall 
gladly  contribute  toward  what  I  consider  as  a  very  interest- 
ing experiment,  and,  indeed,  shall  at  all  times  think  myself 
both  favoured  and  honoured  by  having  my  charity  guided 
by  any  hints  or  suggestions  of  yours. 

With  the  sincerest  respect  and  affection,  believe  me 
always  your  obliged  and  faithful  servant. 

f 

*  "Considerations  on  the  System  of  Parochial  Schools  in  Scotland." 


TO   JOHN   ALLEN.  155 

M 

85.—  To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

22d  February,  1821. 

My  dear  Allen — 

I  have  been  rather  busy,  and  rather  dissipated,  this 
winter,  and  have  rather  neglected  the  Review ;  but  I  must 
now  begin  to  think  of  it  again.  Can  you  recommend  any 
contributors  to  me,  or  any  subjects  to  myself?  I  have  some 
thoughts  of  coming  up  in  March  or  April,  though  I  have 
been  so  idle  as  scarcely  to  be  entitled  to  such  an  indulgence. 
There  is  some  idea  of  moving  the  Chancellor  to  take  up 
the  Queensbury  appeals  immediately,  in  which  case  I 
should  probably  have  a  fair  apology  for  my  journey. 

I  am  very«nuch  ashamed  of  the  Commons,  and  have  but 
little  now  to  say  against  the  radical  reformers ;  if  any  re- 
form is  worth  the  risk  of  such  an  experiment.  The  practi- 
cal question  upon  which  every  man  should  now  be  making 
up  his  mind,  is,  whether  he  is  for  tyranny  or  revolution ; 
and,  upon  the  whole,  I  incline  toward  tyranny ;  which,  I 
take  it,  will  always  be  the  wise  choice  for  any  individual, 
especially  after  his  youth  is  over,  however  it  may  be  for  that 
abstraction  called  the  country,  which  may  very  probably 
be  much  the  better  for  twenty  years'  massacres  and  tumults 
among  its  inhabitants.  The  individual  has  another  re- 
source, too,  in  emigration,  or  entire  retreat  from  all  politi- 
cal functions  and  concerns ;  which  would  often  be  very 
wise  and  agreeable,  if  it  were  not  liable  to  the  reproach  of 
baseness  and  cowardice.  I  see  nothing  comfortable  in  the 
state  of  Europe,  and  think  the  great  pacification  will  turn 
out  the  beginning  of  greater  contention  than  those  it  seemed 
to  ha-ve  ended.  Will  mere  poverty  be  able  to  keep  us  out 
of  them  ? 

Remember  me  very  kindly  to  Lord  and  Lady  Holland, 
and  write  me  a  long  letter  soon. — Ever,  yours. 


156  LIFK   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

86.— To  Charles  Willces,  Esq.,  New  York. 

London,  15th  April,  1821. 

My  dear  Friend — 

We  do  not  allow  ourselves,  however,  to  naturalize  in 
London,  and  are  beginning  to  be  impatient  for  our  deliver- 
ance and  the  close  of  our  exile.  We  have  had  a  racketing 
feverish  life  since  we  came  here,  with  too  little  quiet  and 
leisure  for  Charlotte,  and  almost  too  little  for  me.  It  is 
difficult,  however,,  to  resist  the  civilities  of  distinguished 
people ;  and  a  strong  persuasion  that  what  is  now  rather 
fatiguing  will  amuse  us  in  recollection,  induces  us  to  aban- 
don ourselves  to  the  current,  and  give  up  our  time  to  every 
call  that  is  made  on  it,  &c. 

I  believe  you  do  not  know  many  of  the  people  we  have 
been  living  with  here,  so  that  it  would  be  tedious  to  tell 
you  about  them.  But  though  they  are  very  kind,  and 
many  of  them  very  clever,  and  almost  all  very  fashionable 
and  fine,  I  confess  this  new  experiment  has  confirmed  me 
in  my  dislike  of  a  London  life,  and  made  me  doubly  thank- 
ful that  my  lot  has  been  cast  in  a  quieter  scene.  The 
constant  distractions  of  politics,  and  the  supreme  import- 
ance which  the  business  of  the  two  Houses  assumes  in  all 
the  high  society,  is  the  least  of  my  objections.  It  is  the 
unmanageable  extent  of  that  society,  the  eternal  hurry, 
the  dissipation  of  thought,  and  good  feeling,  and  almost 
of  principle,  which  results  from  the  wearisome  and  fruitless 
pursuit  of  an  [torn]  and  that  pitiful  concern  about  what 
is  distinguished  for  fashion  and  frivolous  notoriety,  which 
offends  and  disgusts  a  thinking,  and  even  a  social,  man  on 
his  first  approach  to  this  great  vortex  of  folly  and  misery. 
Charlotte  participates  in  these  feelings  still  more  largely 
than  I  do,  and  from  not  having  confidence  or  animal 
spirits  so  strong  as  mine,  is  immediately  fatigued  with 
what  rather  amuses  me  at  the  beginning,  and  has  lately 


TO   CHARLES    WJLKES.  157 

taken  to  sleep  at  home  in  the  evenings,  when  I  go  forth  to 
take  my  observations  in  the  haunts  of  dissipation,  &c. 

You  will  expect  me,  of  course,  to  say  something  of 
politics  while  I  am  here  at  the  scene  of  intelligence,  and 
living  among  leaders  of  parties ;  but  I  had  never  less  in- 
clination, or  indeed  less  to  say.  I  think  as  ill  as  ever  of 
the  state  and  prospects  of  the  country,  feel  less  alarm, 
perhaps,  as  to  speedy  or  immediate  mischief,  but  not  at 
all  less  despondency  as  to  the  inevitable  evils  that  surround 
us.  The  agricultural  classes,  embracing  the  old  aristo- 
cracy, are  falling,  and  must  yet  fall,  into  greater  poverty 
and  embarrassment ;  and  the  wealth  of  the  country  centre 
more  in  the  less  valuable  funds  of  the  trading  interest, 
•who,  upon  any  alarm,  are  far  more  likely  to  rally  round 
any  government,  however  oppressive,  and  to  recur  to 
blind  and  short-sighted  violence  as  a  cure  for  disaffection. 
Thus  the  more  unpopular,  and  deservedly  unpopular,  the 

'government  is,  the  more  zealously  will  it  be  by 

the  iniquities  of  a  legislature  to  which  such  is  the  passport ; 
and  the  greater  the  risk  will  become  of  a  contest  between 
the  equally  fatal  extremes  of  a  discontented  populace 
and  an  almost  avowed  tyranny.  The  only  chanoe  is  in 
the  fears  of  the  latter.  I  do  not  myself  believe  that  they 
— that  is,  the  Tory  party — will  ever  be  unseated  till  over- 
thrown by  a  revolution.  But  there  are  indications  that,  to 
avoid  that  extremity,  they  may  tardily  and  imperfectly 
adopt  of  themselves  some  of  those  improvements  against 
which  they  carry  triumphant  decisions  when  proposed  by 
their  antagonists.;  and  that  in  this  way  they  may  grant  a 
variety  of  economical  reforms,  and  even  perhaps  some 
political  ones  in  a  year  or  two  later ;  and  crippled  with 
more  restrictions  than  would  have  attended  them  in  the 
hands  of  a  Whig  government.  In  this  way  the  govern- 
ment may  be  gradually  improved  without  any  change  of 
administration,  and  some  salvation  perhaps  wrought  for 
the  principles  of  liberty,  by  the  necessary  diminution  of 

VOL.  II.— It 


158  LIFE    OF    LOHD   JEFFREY. 

influence  which  must  follow  the  retrenchment  of  expense. 
This,  however,  is  the  bright  side  of  the  picture  ;  and  look- 
ing to  the  fierce  and  mutual  hostility  of  the  populace;  and 
the  governments  both  at  home  and  abroad,  I  confess  I 
think  the  society  of  the  old  world  is  on  the  brink  of  a 
greater  and  more  dreadful  commotion  than  it  has  ever  be- 
fore experienced.  The  catastrophe  of  Naples  is  sad  and 
humiliating,  but  the  spirit  of  disaffection  and  resistance  is 

not  to  be  ,  and,  I  very  much  fear,  cannot  long  be 

repressed  even  in  France,  where  I  am  firmly  of  opinion 
that  it  will  produce  the  most  mischievous  effects. 

We  have  had  a  sort  of  project  of  running  over  to  Paris 
for  a  week,  if  detained  here  over  the  holidays,  but  I  am 
afraid  it  is  too  daring  and  sudden  for  our  ladies, — at  least 
we  shall  see,  &c. — Believe  me,  very  affectionately  yours. 

87. —  To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq.,  New  York. 

Edinburgh,  27th  January,  1822. 

My  dear  Friend — I  take  Charley's*  place  this  time  as 
the  writer  of  our  monthly  despatch ;  not  entirely,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  because  I  have  either  more  leisure  than 
usual,  or  more  agreeable  or  important  intelligence  to  com- 
municate, but  because  the  said  Charlotte  is  not  well 
enough  to  write  easily  for  herself,  &c. 

I  go  on  as  usual ;  rather  less  business  at  the  bar,  and 

more  notoriety  and  away  from  it.  I  have  had.  two 

overtures  to  take  a  seat  in  Parliament,  but  have  given  a 
peremptory  refusal,  from  taste  as  well  as  prudence.  I  am 
not  in  the  least  ambitious,  and  feel  no  desire  to  enter  upon 
public  life  in  such  a  moment  as  the  present,  &c. 

I  think  the  prospects  of  all  the  old  world  bad  enough  at 
this  moment,  both  for  peace  and  ultimate  freedom.  The 
odds  are  that  we  have  revolutionary  wars  all  over  the  con- 
tinent again  in  less  than  two  years,  and  our  only  chance 

*  Charlotte — Mrs.  Jeffrey. 


TO   CHARLES    WILKES.  159 

of  keeping  out  of  them  is  our  miserable  poverty,  and  even 
on  that  I  do  not  rely.  But  the  worst  is,  that  I  am  not  at 
all  sanguine  as  to  the  result,  either  immediate  or  ultimate, 
being  in  favour  of  liberty.  It  is  always  a  duty  to  profess 
in  public  an  entire  reliance  on  the  ultimate  prevalence  of 
reason  and  justice,  because  such  doctrines  help  powerfully 
to  realize  themselves ;  but  in  my  heart  I  am  far  from 
being  such  an  optimist ;  and  looking  at  the  improved  intel- 
ligence of  despotic  governments,  and  the  facilities  which 
the  structure  of  society  affords  to  the  ^policy  of  keeping 
nations  in  awe  by  armies,  I  confess  I  do  not  think  it  un- 
likely that  we  shall  go  with  our  old  tyrannies  and  corrup- 
tions for  4000  or  5000  years  longer.  When  or  how  is 
the  government  of  Russia  to  be  liberalized  ? — and  if  they 
unite  and  bind  themselves  with  Prussia  and  England  in  a 
holy  alliance  to  keep  down  what  they  call  treason  and  re- 
bellion in  other  countries,  what  means  of  resistance  can 
the  people  of  such  countries  ever  acquire?  The  true  hope 
of  the  world  is  with  you  in  America ;  in  your  example 
now — and  in  fifty  years  more,  I  hope,  your  influence  and 
actual  power.  And  yet  I  am  accused  of  being  unjust  to 
Americans.  At  home  things  are  very  bad.  The  king, 
out  of  humour  with  his  ministers,  on  grounds  that  do  them 
no  dishonour,  has  a  rooted  horror  at  all  liberal  opinions ; 
and  the  Duke  of  York,  with  more  firmness  and  cold  blood, 
is  still  more  bigoted.  The  body  of  the  people,  again,  are 
so  poor,  and  their  prospects  so  dismal,  that  it  is  quite  easy 
to  stir  them  up  to  any  insane  project  of  reform ;  and  the 
dread  of  this  makes  timid  people  rally  round  those  who 
are  for  keeping  order  by  force,  and  neutralizes  the  sober 
influence  of  the  Whigs.  Our  only  chance  is  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  our  financial  embarrassments,  which  will  force 
such  retrenchments  on  the  ministry  as  at  once  to  weaken 
their  powers  of  corruption,  and  to  lend  credit  to  those 
whose  lessons  they  have  so  long  contemned,  and  must  now 
stoop  to  follow.  I  scarcely  thmk  Parliament  will  venture 


160  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

on  a  renewal  of  the  property  tax,  but  I  do  not  think  it  im- 
possible that  they  may  be  driven  to  reduce  the  interest  of 
the  funds,  though  that  would  raise  a  great  outcry,  and 
justly. 

Tell  me  about  your  children.     What  is  Horace  doing, 

and  W ?     I  will  write  soon  again  to  Fanny.     It  is  a 

great  delight  to  hear  of  the  continued  health  and  long 
youth  of  your  old  ladies.  Pray  remember  me  to  them 
most  affectionately,  &c.  God  bless  you. — Very  affection- 
ately yours. 

SS.—To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq. 

London,  13th  April,  1822. 

My  dear  Friend — Here  I  am  alone  in  this  huge,  heart- 
less place ;  and  so  alone  and  home-sick  that  it  is  a  great 
relief  to  be  allowed  to  write  to  anybody  who  really  cares 
for  me.  I  am  come  again  upon  a  great  appeal  case ;  and 
Charlotte,  who  is  in  the  middle  of  her  gardening,  and  all 
day  long  tying  up  hyacinths,  and  propping  carnations, 
like  Eve  in  paradise,  positively  refused  to  come  with  me. 
Though  we  hurried  up  in  three  days,  we  have  been  three 
days  here  waiting  for  our  case  coming  on,  and  are  likely 
to  wait  as  many  days  more,  and  it  will  last  eight  days 
hearing  I  have  no  doubt,  and  I  shall  scarcely  get  down 
for  our  term  on  the  12th  of  May,  and  not  at  all  at  Craig- 
crook  again  for  any  part  of  the  vacation.  By  what  I  can 
see  and  hear,  things  are  in  no  very  good  way,  and  scarcely 
even  safe.  Great  discontent  and  great  distrust,  not  merely 
of  government,  but  of  all  public  men,  in  the  body  of  the 
people  ;  great  intolerance  and  obstinacy  on  the  part  of  the 
ministers,  and  no  very  cordial  union  among  the  members 
of  the  parliamentary  opposition.  Last  year,  the  success 
and  industry  of  Hume  made  a  sort  of  coalition  between 
the  thorough  Reformers  and  the  moderate  constitutional 
Whigs ;  but  they  cannot  stand  two  sessions  of  estimate, 
and  are  beginning  to  draw  off  from  him,  which  not  only 


.    TO   CHARLES   WILKES.  161 

weakens  them  every  way,  but  still  more  materially  strength- 
ens the  ministry.  There  will  be  some  little  retrenchment, 
and,  in  that  way,  some  small  diminution  of  influence ;  but 
the  general  poverty  and  extravagance  of  all  the  upper 
classes  will  make  the  remaining  patronage  go  as  far  in  the 
way  of  corruption  as  it  used  to  do  before  it  was  diminished 
in  more  prosperous  times.  I  rather  think  we  are  tending 
to  a  revolution,  steadily,  though  slowly — so  slowly,  that  it 
may  not  come  for  fifty  years  yet ;  but  capable  of  being 
accelerated  by  events  that  are  not  at  all  improbable.  The 
most  disgusting  peculiarity  of  the  present  times  is  the 
brutal  scurrility  and  personality  of  the  party  press,  origi- 
nally encouraged  by  ministers,  though  I  believe  they  would 
now  gladly  get  rid  of  it ;  but,  from  their  patronage  and 
the  general  appetite  for  scandal,  it  has  now  become  too 
lucrative  a  thing  to  be  sacrificed  to  their  hints,  and  goes 
on,  and  will  go  on,  for  the  benefit  and  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  venal  wretches  who  supply  it. 

I  have  seen  but  few  people  yet  since  I  came  up,  the 
holidays  being  just  over,  and  the  good  company  scarcely 
returned  to  town  yet.  I  called,  to-day,  on  Washington 
Irving  and  on  Miss  Edgeworth,  but  was  not  lucky  enough 
to  find  either  of  them ;  but  we  are  sure  of  meeting,  and  I 
will  write  again  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  them.  I  have 
been  sitting  or  walking  most  of  the  morning  with  poet 
Campbell  and  with  Mackintosh. 

I  got  out  a  nice  number  of  the  Review  just  before  I  left 
home,  and  directed  an  early  copy  to  be  forwarded  to  you 
I  am  afraid  you  will  think  it  heavy.     I  write  nothing  my 
self  but  Lord' Byron,*  to  whom  I  have  at  last  administered 
a  little  cruel  medicine,  and  a  part  of  Demosthenes,  not 
the  translations. 

I  hope  Fanny  is  quite  well.  I  wrote  her  a  bit  of  a  letter 
not  long  ago,  and  want  to  provoke  her  to  write  to  me.  It 

•-:-•*  No.  72,  art.  7. 

14*  L 


1G2  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

will  do  her  health  a  great  deal  of  good,  and  give  me  much 
pleasure.  I  will  insult  her  with  another  letter,  I  think, 
before  I  leave  London.  It,  has  been  very  cold  for  two  or 
three  weeks,  till  a  few  days  ago,  and  now  it  is  very  warm. 
The  park  trees  green  with  buds  rather  than  leaves,  and 
the  grass  quite  luxurious.  Nothing  in  the  universe  can  be 
so  bright,  pure,  and  soft;  all  the  sloes  and  almond  trees  in 
blossom,  and  all  the  fields  alive  with  lambs,  and  the  sky 
echoing  with  larks.  I  assure  you  England  is  delightful  in 
spring.  Yet  I  am  longing  sadly  to  be  home  again.  What 
I  miss  most  in  London  are  the  four  or  five  houses  into 
which  you  can  go  at  all  hours,  and  the  seven  or  eight  wo- 
men with  whom  you  are  quite  familiar,  and  with  whom  you 
can  go  and  sit  and  talk  at  your  ease,  dressed  or  undressed, 
morning  or  evening,  whenever  you  have  any  leisure,  or  in- 
disposition to  be  busy.  Here  I  have  only  visiting  acquaint- 
ances, at  least  among  that  sex,  and  that  does  not  suit  or 
satisfy  me.  I  am  going  to  dress  for  dinner  now,  and  shall 
not  finish  this  till  to-morrow. — God  bless  you. 

Saturday,  20th, — I  have  been  a  good  part  of  the  morn- 
ing with  Chantry,  who  has  some  beautiful  things.  I  wished 
much  for  you,  while  I  was  in  his  gallery.  His  busts  and 
children  are  admirable  ;  but  I  do  not  much  like  either  his 
full  statues  or  his  designs  in  relief.  He  is  a  strange,  blunt 
fellow  himself;  and  in  his  workshop  I  met  anothej;  curi- 
osity— a  Scottish  poet — no  contemptible  imitator  of  JBurns, 
who  is  a  sort  of  overseer  for  Chantry,  and  is  trusted  with 
all  his  business.*  He  was  bred  a  carpenter ;  but  being, 
like  most  of  my  countrymen,  well  educated,  he  wan'dered 
up  to  London  and  set  about  reporting  debates  for  the 
newspapers ;  but,  being  a  strict  Whig,  he  grew  so  impatient 
of  the  baseness  he  was  obliged  to  set  down,  that  he  came 
to  Chantry,  who  is  a  bit  of  a  Whig  also,  and  said  he  would 
rather  sweep  his  shop  for  him  than  go  on  with  such  drudge- 

*  Allan  Cunningham. 


TO   CHARLES   WILKES.  163 

ry  ;  and  now  he  is  his  right-hand  man,  and  has  invented 
various  machines  of  great  use  and  ingenuity.  I  shall  send 
you  a  volume  of  his  poetry,  to  let  you  see  what  universal 
geniuses  come  out  of  Scotland. 

It  is  beautiful  weather,  and  I  divert  myself  with  varieties 
of  talk  and  spectacles ;  but,  for  all  that,  weary  sadly  for 
my  wife  and  child,  and  wake  half  a  dozen  times  in  the 
night  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  find  myself  alone. 

I  have  not  had  time  yet  to  call  on  your  fair  cousin,  Miss 
De  P.,  but  I  fancy  you  will  forgive  me  for  that  omission. 
I  think  I  shall  go  down  to  Malthus  with  Mackintosh,  this 
day  week.  I  understand  he  is  quite  well,  and  I  hope  to 
hear  a  nightingale.  I  was  surprised,  this  morning,  to  run 
against  my  old  friend  Tommy  Moore,  who  looks  younger, 
I  think,  than  when  we  met  at  Chalk  Farm  some  sixteen 
years  ago.  His  embarrassments,  I  understand,  are  nearly 
settled  now,  and  he  may  again  inhabit  this  country.  I 
am  to  dine  with  him  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Is  the  Rush  who  is  here  as  your  minister  the  same,  man 
whom  I  sat  beside  at  Madison's  table,  and  to  whom  I 
addressed  that  polite  letter  before  sailing,  which  you  had 
the  clownishness  to  abuse  as  a  piece  of  flattery  ?  If  he  is, 
I  think  I  must  renew  my  acquaintance  with  him.  I  suppose 
Irving  will  be  able  to  tell  me,  and  it  would  be  rather  more 
sensible  to  ask  him  than  you  for  my  present  purpose.  I 
know  nothing  of  Simond  or  "his  book.  The  travels,  I 
daresay,  will  be  good  ;  but  the  history  will  not  do,  though 
it  has  cost  him  fifty  times  more  labour.  I  wish  he  would 
come  over  here  for  a  while.  Will  you  think  me  very 
romantic  if  I  tell  you  that  I  took  a  long  lonely  walk  to-day 
all  over  the  Park  and  Kensington  Gardens,  in  the  very 
track  in  which  I  walked  with  Charlotte  the  last  time  I 
saw  her  before  her  return  to  America?  and  all  through 
the  street,  and  up  to  the  door  of  the  house  in  Wood- 
stock Street,  where  she  then  lodged,  and  where  I  took  my 
farewell  of  her.  That  is  now  ten  years  ago,  and  I  am 


104  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

not  much  altered,  I  think,  since  that  time.  London,  I 
think,  looks  less,  and  more  empty  than  usual,  though  we 
had  a  good  levee  yesterday,  and  ten  carriages  were  de- 
molished in  the  press.  People  complain  that  the  king  sees 
nobody,  but  is  always  either  shut  up  with  a  few  women 
and  blackguard  favourites,  or  figuring  at  a  few  gala  days, 
where  everybody  pass  before  him  as  fast  as  they  can  trot, 
lie  is  well  enough  in  health,  I  believe,  but  very  fat,  nervous, 
and  lazy,  and  cannot  be  long-lived.  I  am  sorry  about  the 
bank  ;  but  if  the  storm  advances  on  you,  you  must  just  fly 
before  it.  Go  to  Bloomingdale  by  all  means  ;  it  will  do  you 
a  vast  deal  of  good.  I  told  you  that  I  liked  your  Ameri- 
can novel ;  but  I  am  a  very  lenient  critic,  and  can  by  no 
means  answer  for  -its  success  here.  Indeed  he  makes  too 
lavish  a  use  of  extreme  means — he  is  always  in  agonies. — 
Very  affectionately  yours. 

89.— To  Mrs.  Golden,  New  York. 

(A  sister  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey.) 

Mardocka,  6th  May,  1822. 

My  dear  Fanny — I  am  on  my  way  back  to  Scotland, 
after  a  three  weeks'  exile  in  London,  and  take  the  leisure 
of  this  tine  summer  morning  to  write  you  a  long  letter.  I 
hope  you  are  sensible  of  the  compliment  I  pay  you  in 
taking  this  vast  sheet  of  paper,  which,  to  make  it  the  more 
gracious,  I  have  stolen  from  the  quire  on  which  my  host, 
Sir  James  Mackintosh,  is  now  writing  his  history. 

I  have  been  very  much  amused  in  London,  though  rather 
too  feverishly,  so  that  it  is  deliciously  refreshing  to  get 
out  of  its  stir  and  tumult,  and  sit  down  to  recollect  all  I 
have  seen  and  heard,  amidst  the  flowers'  freshness  and 
nightingales  of  this  beautiful  country.  I  was  a  good  deal 
among  wits  and  politicians,  of  whom  you  would  not  care 
much  to  hear.  But  I  also  saw  a  good  deal  of  Miss  Edge- 
worth  and  Tommy  Moore,  and  something  of  your  country- 


TO   MRS.  COLDEN.  165 

man,  Washington  Irving,  with  whom  I  was  very  happy  to 
renew  my  acquaintance.  Moore  is  still  more  delightful  in 
society  than  he  is  in  his  writings ;  the  sweetest-blooded, 
warmest-hearted,  happiest,  hopefulest  creature  that  ever 
set  fortune  at  defiance.  He  was  quite  ruined  about  three 
years  ago  by  the  treachery  of  a  deputy  in  a  small  office 
he  held,  and  forced  to  reside  in  France.  He  came  over, 
sinPe  I  came  to  England,  to  settle  his  debts  by  the  sacrifice 
of  every  farthing  he  had  in  the  world,  and  had  scarcely 
got  to  London  when  he  found  that  the  whole  scheme  of 
settlement  had  blown  up,  and  that  he  must  return  in  ten 
days  to  his  exile.  And  yet  I  saw  nobody  so  sociable,  kind, 
and  happy ;  so  resigned,  or  rather  so  triumphant  over 
fortune,  by  the  buoyancy  of  his  spirits,  and  the  inward  light 
of  his  mind.  He  told  me  a  great  deal  about  Lord  Byron, 
with  whom  he  had  lived  very  much  abroad,  and  of  whose 
heart  and  temper,  with  all  his  partiality  to  him,  he  cannot 
say  any  thing  very  favourable.  There  is  nothing  gloomy 
or  bitter,  however,  in  his  ordinary  talkv  but  rather  a  wild, 
rough,  boyish  pleasantry,  much  more  like  nature  than  his 
poetry. 

Miss  Edgeworth  I  had  not  seen  for  twenty  years,  and 
found  her  very  unlike  my  recollection. 

Have  you  any  idea  what  sort  of  thing  a  truly  elegant 
English  woman  of  fashion  is  ?  I  suspect  not ;  for  it  is  not 
to  be  seen  almost  out  of  England,  and  I  do  not  know  very 
well  how  to  describe  it.  Great  quietness,  simplicity,  and 
delicacy  of  manners,  with  a  certain  dignity  and  self-pos- 
session that  puts  vulgarity  out  of  countenance,  and  keeps 
presumption  in  awe ;  a  singularly  sweet,  soft,  and  rather 
low  voice,  with  remarkable  elegance  and  ease  of  diction;  a 
perfect  taste  in  wit  and  manners  and  conversation,  but  no 
loquacity,  and  rather  languid  spirits ;  a  sort  of  indolent 
disdain  of  display  and  accomplishments ;  an  air  of  great 
good-nature  and  kindness,  with  but  too  often  some  heart- 
lessness,  duplicity,  and  ambition.  These  are  some  of  the 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

traits,  and  such,  I  think,  as  would  most  strike  an  American. 
You  would  think  her  rather  cold  and  spiritless  ;  but  she 
would  predominate  over  you  in  the  long  run  ;  and  indeed 
is  a  very  bewitching  and  dangerous  creature,  more  seduc- 
tive and  graceful  than  any  other  in  the  world  ;  but  not 
better  nor  happier ;  and  I  am  speaking  even  of  the  very 
best  and  most  perfect.  We  have  plenty  of  loud,  foolish 
things,  good  humoured,  even  in  the  highest  society. 

Washington  Irving  is  rather  low-spirited  and  silent  in 
mixed  company,  but  is  agreeable,  I  think,  tete  d  t£te,  and 
is  very  gentle  and  amiable.  He  is  a  good  deal  in  fashion, 
and  has  done  something  to  deserve  it.  I  hope  you  do  not 
look  on  him  in  America  as  having  flattered  our  old  coun- 
try improperly.  I  had  the  honour  of  dining  twice  with  a 
royal  duke,  very  jovial,  loud,  familiar,  and  facetious,  by 
no  means  foolish  or  uninstructed,  but  certainly  coarse  and 
indelicate  to  a  degree  quite  remarkable  in  the  upper  classes 
of  society.  The  most  extraordinary  man  in  England  is 
the  man  in  whose  house  I  now  am. 

I  came  down  here  yesterday  by  way  of  Haileybury, 
where  I  took  up  Malthus,  who  is  always  delightful,  and 
brought  him  here  with  me.  The  two  professors  have  gone 
over  to  the  College  to  their  lectures,  and  return  to  dinner. 
I  proceed  on  my  journey  homeward  in  the  evening.  Would 
you  like  to  know  what  old  England  is  like?  and  in  what  it 
most  differs  from  America?  Mostly,  I  think,  in  the  visible 
memorials  of  antiquity  with  which  it  is  overspread ;  the 
superior  beauty  of  its  verdure,  and  the  more  tasteful  and 
happy  state  and  distribution  of  its  woods.  Every  thing 
around  you  here  is  historical,  and  leads  to  romantic  or  in- 
teresting recollections.  Gray  grown  church  towers,  cathe- 
drals, ruined  abbeys,  castles  of  all  sizes  and  descriptions, 
in  all  stages  of  decay,  from  those  that  are  inhabited  to 
those  in  whose  moats  ancient  trees  are  growing,  and  ivy 
mantling  over  their  mouldered  fragments.  Within  sight 
3f  this  house,  for  instance,  there  are  the  remains  of  the 


TO   MRS.    COLDEX.  167 

palace  of  Hunsden,  where  Queen  Elizabeth  passed  her 
childhood,  and  Theobalds,  where  King  James  had  his  hunt- 
ing-seat, and  the  Rye-house,  where  Rumbold's  plot  was 
laid,  and  which  is  still  occupied  by  a  malster — such  is  the 
permanency  of  habits  and  professions  in  this  ancient 
country.  Then  there  are  two  gigantic  oak  stumps,  with 
a  few  fresh  branches  still, -which  are  said  to  have  been 
planted  by  Edward  the  III.,  and  massive  stone  bridges 
over  lazy  waters;  and  churches  that  look  as  old  as  Chris- 
tianity ;  and  beautiful  groups  of  branchy  trees ;  and  a 
verdure  like  nothing  else  in  the  universe ;  and  all  the  cot- 
tages and  lawns  fragrant  with  sweetbrier  and  violets,  and 
glowing  with  purple  lilacs  and  white  elders;  and  antique 
villages  scattering  round  wide  bright  greens;  with  old 
trees  and  ponds,  and  a  massive  pair  of  oaken  stocks  pre- 
served from  the  days  of  Alfred.  With  you  every  thing  is 
new,  and  glaring,  and  angular,  and  withal  rather  frail, 
slight,  and  perishable;  nothing  soft,  and  mellow,  and  vene- 
rable, or  that  looks  as  if  it  would  ever  become  so.  I  will 
not  tell  you  about  Scotland  after  this.  It  has  not  these 
characters  of  ancient  wealth  and  population,  but  beauties 
of  another  kind,  which  you  must  come  and  see. 

I  have  pined  very  much  in  my  absence  from  it,  but — 
[torn] — in  my  divorce  from  Charley  and  my  child,  though 
I  get  a  letter  from  them  every  second  day,  and  find  they 
are  well  and  happy.  The  little  one  is  a  very  nice  babe. 
I  wish  you  could  see  her;  very  quick  and  clever  certainly, 
but,  what  is  much  better,  very  kind-hearted,  compassionate, 
and  sweet-tempered,  and  delightfully  happy  all  day  long. 
You  may  laugh  if  you  please,  but  I  say  all  this  is  literally 
true,  and  she  is  not  a  bit  spoiled,  not  she, — and  accordingly 
she  is  a  universal  favourite  among  all  sorts  of  people,  which 
a  spoiled  child  never  was  since  the  world  began.  I  wrote 
a  long  letter  to  your  father  after  I  came  to  London.  I 
have  not  since  heard  any  thing  as  to  the  Cochranes,  but 
understand  the  admiral  is  better,  though  by  no  means  well 


LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

or  comfortable.  I  have  done  every  thing  about  Mrs.  Shaw 
that  he  desired.  Write  me  a  long  letter  soon,  and  tell  me 
about  Anne  especially.  Is  she  sensible,  as  well  as  merry, 
or  given  to  fall  in  love,  or  to  flirt?  (which  is  not  at  all  the 
same  thing.)  Is  she  domestic,  or  giddy  and  dissipated? 
Does  she  read  any,  or  ride  ?  In  short,  tell  me  what  she 
does,  and  what  she  likes  to  do.  I  have  a  great  passion  for 
her,  as  I  recollect  her,  and  want  not  to  fancy  her  different 
from  the  reality.  Tell  me  now,  too,  about  good  Mrs. 
Adam,  and  grandmamma.  You  do  not  know  how  often 
and  how  kindly  we  talk  of  you  all,  and  how  little  your 
absence  has  loosened  the  ties  which  bound  us  together. 

I  was  very  much  shocked  at  reading  the  accounts  of  the 
loss  of  one  of  your  packets.  It  seems  to  lessen  the  chance 
of  our  meeting,  and  enlarge  the  barrier  betwixt  us,  though 
that  is  nonsense  too,  as  the  actual  danger  is  neither  greater 
nor  less.  I  have  heard  nothing  of  Simonds  for  a  long 
time,  but  I  have  just  seen  a  copy  of  his  book — two  enor- 
mous thick  volumes;  but  I  have  not  had  time  yet  to  read 
any  of  it.  It  is  not  yet  to  be  bought  indeed  in  London. 
I  suppose  I  shall  find  a  copy  when  I  get  home.  It  is  as 
•warm  to-day  as  our  summer  generally  is,  and  nothing  is  so 
delicious  as  this  early  heat.  The  dust  is  parching,  but 
every  thing  dewy,  and  fragrant,  and  fresh.  All  the  leaves 
are  now  out,  but  the  oaks  indeed  scarcely  quite  out  yet. 
In  Scotland  I  fear  our  branches  are  still  bareish,  though 
our  spring,  I  understand,  has  been  rather  more  forward 
than  usual.  Charlotte  has  resumed  her  riding  with  the 
fine  weather,  and  is  become  exceedingly  popular  and  hos- 
pitable in  my  absence.  She  is  at  Craigcrook,  and  seems 
to  be  keeping  open  house.  I  really  think  she  has  grown 
more  agreeable  within  the  last  two  years;  she  likes  more 
people,  and  feels  more  intensely  the  pleasure  of  making 
others  happy.  You  will  laugh  at  this  too,  I  suppose,  and 
think  I  am  falling  into  my  dotage.  No  matter,  see  whether 
Mr.  Golden  will  say  as  much  of  you  after  nine  years'  mar- 


.     -TO    CHARLES    WILKES.  169 

riage.  Remember  me  very  kindly  to  him,  and  all  the 
worthy  democrats  of  your  acquaintance.  I  reverence  them 
very  much,  and  think  they  have  good  cause  to  be  proud  of 
their  handiwork.  I  hope  you  are  now  quite  well,  and  active, 
and  popular.  What  is  your  favourite  pursuit?  and  what 
sort  of  people  do  you  like  most  to  live  with  ?  Are  you 
tired  of  music  yet?  That  will  come,  you  know;  and  it  is 
better  that  you  should  tire  of  it  before  your  husband  does. 
God  bless  you,  my  dear  Fan. — Very  affectionately  yours. 

90.— To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq.,  New  York. 

Edinburgh,  22d  September,  1822. 
My  dear  Friend — 

I  have  at  last  sent  you  the  picture,  and  have  been  gene- 
rous enough  to  let  you  have  the  original,  which  I  hope  you 
will  admire  as  much  as  it  deserves.  It  is  very  like  the 
child,*  though  it  gives  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  her  ani- 
mation, or  of  the  sunny  sweet  expression  which  is  the  ge- 
neral ornament  of  her  features.  It  went  to  Liverpool 
more  than  three  weeks  ago,  and  by  a  letter  from  Kennedy 
I  find  it  was  sent  off  early  in  this  month,  so  at  all  events 
I  think  you  must  receive  it  before  this  reach  you.  We  just 
got  home  to  receive  your  letter  of  the  14th  August,  with 
the  statement  of  my  money,  for  which  I  thank  you,  &c. 

Simonds  wrote  from  Berne  to  announce  his  marriage. 
He  seems  very  happy.  I  rather  like  his  book.  I  mean  the 
journey  ;  for  I  really  have  not  been  able  to  see  the  history. 
It  is  obviously  a  failure  in  an  attempt  to  condense  a  vast 
mass  of  dull  matter  into  a  moderate  compass.  The  con- 
sequence of  which  is,  that  the  dulness  is  increased  in  pro- 
portion to  the  density,  and  the  book  becomes  ten  times 
more  tedious  by  its  compression.  This  is  not  a  paradox 
now,  but  a  simple  truth,  for  the  reader  has  not  time  in 
those  brief  notices  to  get  acquainted  with  the  persons,  or 

*  His  daughter. 
VOL.  II.— 15 


170  LIFE    OF    LOUD   JEFFREY. 

to  take  an  interest  in  the  events ;  whereas  the  very  copious- 
ness of  a  full  historical  detail  begets  a  familiarity  which 
grows  up  insensibly  to  a  regard.  I  have  always  said  that 
Clarissa  Harlowe  and  Sir  C.  Grandison  owe  all  their  attrac- 
tion to  their  length  ;  and  it  is  quite  certain  that  an  abstract 
of  either  would  be  illegible.  And  it  is  just  the  same  with 
true  histories,  if  there  be  any  such  thing.  However,  the 
whole  work  is  very  respectable,  and  I  meditate  a  review 
of  it.  There  is  a  number  just  out  which  you  will  have  got 
before  you  get  this,  and  of  which  I  have  but  little  to  say. 
I  have  been  lazy,  and  wrote  only  Nigel,  and  part  of  the 
first  article.  The  most  remarkable  book  that  is  noticed  is 
O'Meara's  Bonaparte ;  to  me  the  most  interesting  publica- 
tion1 that  has  appeared  in  our  times.  Jt  has  made  a  great 
sensation  both  in  this  country  and  in  Paris,  and  no  one 
doubts  its  authenticity,  or  that  it  is  a  faithful  account  of 
what  Bonaparte  did  say.  The  petty  squabbles  with  Sir  H. 
Low  take  up  far  too  much  of  it,  and  should  be  left  out  of 
the  next  edition  ;  though  it  is  easy  to  see  that  America 
thinks  that  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  work.  Though 
there  is  much  rashness,  and  probably  some  falsehood,  in 
those  imperial  lucubrations,  they  seem  to  me  to  show  infi- 
nite talent,  and  make  a  nearer  approach  to  magnanimity 
and  candour  than  I  at  all  expected.  I  am  curious  to  hear 
what  you  think  of  them,  &c. 

Pray  give  my  kindest  love  to  Mrs.  W.,  and  your  admira- 
ble old  ladies,  who  are  perfect  patterns  to  grow  old  by; 
and  to  Fanny  and  my  dear  little  Anne,  for  whom  I  have 
BO  many  kisses  in  store. 

God  bless  you  and  make  you  all  happy. — Ever  very  affec- 
tionately yours. 

t 

91. — To  his  Niece)  Miss  Brown. 

Cathedral  Church  of  Basle,  13th  August,  1823. 
My  dear  Harriet — What  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  place 
to  write  from  ?     I- doubt  whether  there  was  ever  a  letter 


TO    MISS    BROWN.  171 

written  in  it  before.  But  the  heat  is  so  intolerable  every- 
where else,  that  having  experienced  the  delicious  feeling 
of  coolness  when  we  came  here  to  see  it,  I  bethought  my- 
self of  asking  leave  to  come  back  and  write  in  it,  which  the 
worthy  sexton — as  this  is  a  free  Protestant  city,  and  above 
Popish  prejudices — thought  very  reasonable.  So  I  am 
now  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the  choir,  with  the  tomb  of 
Erasmus  beside  me,  the  hall  of  the  famous  council  at  my 
back,  and  the  ashes  of  a  hundred  Helvetic  warriors  of  old 
renown  under  my  feet. 

I  wrote  to  you  I  think  from  Mentz,  or  from  some  place 
thereabouts.  We  have  come  on  very  well  ever  since,  till 
the  heat  overtook  us  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  one  of 
the  crane  necks  of  our  perch  broke  last  night,  by  which 
disaster  we  laid  by  a  whole  day  till  it  can  be  repaired.  If 
the  heat  lasts,  however,  we  must  travel  by  night  and  sleep 
in  the  day,  though  that  will  be  a  little  difficult  between  two 
feather  beds,  which  is  the  usual  accommodation  in  this 
country.  The  Rhine,  which  we  'have  regained,  is  much 
improved  since  we  parted,  having  lost  much  of  his  mud, 
and  pours  down  rain  in  a  fine  sea-green  torrent,  roaring 
and  surging  in  a  free  manly  voice  from  between  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Jura  and  those  of  the  Black  Forest,  which  lie 
both  before  us.  We  got  the  first  peep  of  the  snowy  Alps 
yesterday,  but  at  a  great  distance,  ranging  like  low  white 
clouds  over  a  distant  upland.  There  are  six  or  seven  peaks 
in  sight  at  once,  100  miles  off,  I  daresay,  but  very  imposing 
and  majestical.  We  have  lost  them  again  by  drawing 
nearer  to  the  intervening  heights,  but  shall  probably  see 
them  again  to-morrow,  and  next  day  hope  to  be  among 
them.  We  go  from  this  place  to  Schaff  hausen,  and  then 
on  to  Zurich,  where  we  part, — Mr.  Wilkes  and  the  women 
going  direct  to  Geneva,  and  we  three  free  men  of  the  forest 
taking  across  to  St:  Gothard  to  Venice,  and  what  not.  We 
reassemble  at  Geneva  about  the  5th  of  September,  and  1 
wish  you  would  immediately  write  to  that  place,  as  it  takes 


172  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

about  sixteen  days  to  go,  and  I  shall  not  remain  above  a 
week.  I  think  I  described  the  rocky  and  castling  rise  of 
the  Rhine  to  you.  After  that  we  skirted  a  long  range  of 
woody  hills  for  near  100  miles,  about  as  high  as  the  Ochill?, 
but  covered  with  wood  to  the  top,  vineyards  at  the  bottom, 
and  on  the  slope  villagers'  houses  in  old  walnut  groves  and 
orchards  ;  on  the  opposite  side  a  vast  plain,  blackened  now 
and  then  by  forest,  and  bordered  at  a  great  distance  by 
skyish  mountains  fifty  miles  off — something  resembling  in 
their  form  the  west  end  of  the  -Campsie  hills,  when  seen 
five  miles  off.  The  German  towns  are  very  handsome,  and 
even  magnificent,  but  here  a  despotic  and ap- 
pearance, and  swarm  with  whiskered  soldiers  and  drums, 
and  are troublesome  about  passports  and  bag- 
gage. I  keep  a  journal,  where  every  thing  worthy  of 
remembrance  is  recorded,  and  you  shall  be  allowed  to  read 
it  for  the  small  charge  of  one  penny ;  so  I  avoid  particu- 
lars here.  We  are  all  here  quite  well,  &c. 

I  had  a  letter  here  from  Mr.  Morehead,  the  only  one  we 
have  got  since  leaving  home.  We  think  very  often  of  you 
all,  and  wish  ourselves  back  with  you  again ;  for,  after  all, 
travelling  is  pleasanter  when  it  is  over  than  while  it  is 
going  on.  We  have  laid  in  materials  that  may  serve  us 
all  for  lying  for  the  rest  of  our  lives.  We  have  agreed 
very  well — Cockburn  being  despotic,  and  the  rest  of  us 
dutifully  obedient.  Farewell,  my  dear  Harriet,  &c.— Be- 
lieve me  always,  very  affectionately  yours. 

92.— To  Miss  Brown. 

Venice,  25th  August,  1823. 

My  dear  Harriet — Here  we  are  at  last,  at  the  end  of 
our  journey,  and  with  nothing  but  a  return  before  us.  It 
requires  to  be  as  far  from  home  as  I  am,  and  to  love  it  as 
well,  to  understand  the  comfort  there  is  in  that.  Yet  we 
have  come  on  charmingly,  except  that  .we  have  been 
bothered  eternally  about  passports,  and  are  .almost  dis- 


TO    MISS    BROWN.  173 

solved  into  a  dew  with  heat.  That  last  is  indeed  a  serious 
evil,  and  I  bear  it  worse  than  I  expected,  especially  in  the 
night ;  for  though  I  sleep  under  a  single  sheet,  there  is  no 
lying  still  for  it,  and  I  am  up  half  a  dozen  times  washing 
myself  with  water  and  eau  de  Cologne.  The  skin,  too,  is 
off  both  my  ears,  and  is  coming  off  my  nose,  and  all  this 
in  sight  of  the  snowy  Alps.  It  is  very  shocking ! 

I  have  written  you  three  letters  on  my  journey,  but  I 
cannot  remember  the  places ;  one  from  Basle,  and  one,  I 
think,  from  Verona.  Has  not  that  last  a  classical  sound  ? 
I  looked  out  for  Juliet's  garden  and  the  house  of  Old 
Capulet,  but  could  make  nothing  of  it.  There  is  a  fine 
old  amphitheatre  there,  very  massive  and  eternal,  but  not 
graceful.  We  have  been  at  Padua  too.  There  I  could 
hear  nothing  of  Dr.  Bellario;  and  I  have  been  twice  in 
the  Rialto  without  seeing  either  Shylock  or  Antonio. 
Such  is  the  magic  of  Shakspeare.  I  think  only  of  his 
characters  passing  by  these  places,  and  think  them  far 
better  consecrated  by  his  fictions  than  their  historical 
realities.  We  go  back  by  Mantua  and  Cremona  to  Milan, 
and  so  by  the  Simplon  to  Geneva,  \Ve  parted  company 
at  Lucerne, — Mr.  Wilkes  going  straight  with  the  females 
to  •  Geneva,  and  I,  with  Richardson  and  Cockburn,  over 
St.  Gothard  here.  We  rise  too  early,  and  are  sleepy  for 
it  half  the  day;  but  it  is  necessary,  I  perceive,  to  get 
through  our  work,  &c. 

Venice,  at  least  the  St.  Mark  part,  is  so  like  the  pano- 
rama you  had  in  Scotland  last  year,  that  it  would  be  ab- 
surd to  describe  it.  At  any  rate,  however,  it  is  very 
curkms  to  find  one's  self  in  the  middle  of  it.  It  looks 
very  fairy  and  Eastern,  splendid  and  melancholy.  We 
came  yesterday,  and  shall  go  away  to-morrow.*  I  like 
Switzerland  best.  Lombardy  is  generally  flat  and  dusty, 
and  full  of  poplars,  with  the  dim  Alps  towering  through  a 


*  We  did  not. 
15* 


174  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

quivering  hot  atmosphere.  On  the  north  the  towns  very 
magnificent  and  Grecian,  and  the  large  houses  very  pic- 
turesque, with  large  cool  gardens  inside. 

In  this  place  there  is  not  a  tree,  nor  a  bit  of  any  green 
thing  but  the  water,  which  smells  abominably.  The  whole 
town,  however,  is  very  picturesque ;  and  the  infinite 
variety  of  splendid  palaces  growing  out  of  the  water,  and 
steeping  to  decay,  gives  it  a  character  quite  unique  and 
interesting.  It  is  a  thing  to  remember  and  speak  of  for 
a  lifetime. 

I  have  not  got  over  my  home  sickness  yet  by  any 
means ;  and  since  I  have  been  parted  from  my  child,  it  is 
still  stronger.  She  was  perfectly  well  and  gay  all  the 
time  I  was  with  her,  but  I  cannot  help  being  anxious 
about  her,  now  that  she  is  out  of  my  sight,  &c.  God 
bless  you,  my  dear  child. — Very  affectionately  yours. 

93.— To  John  Allen,  Esq. 

18th  December,  1823. 

My  dear  Allen — Somebody  told  me  that  you  had  read 
Brodie's  History  of  the  Stuarts,  and  approved  of  it.  I 
am  very  anxious  that  so  meritorious  a  work  of  a  Scottish 
Whig  should  have  some  honour  in  the  Review,  and  men- 
tioned it  some  time  ago  to  Mackintosh,  to  whom  I  thought 
it  would  be  easy  to  estimate  the  merit  and  originality  of 
his  views.  But  the  said  M:  makes  it  a  principle,  of  Jate, 
to  take  no  notice  of  my  letters,  and  I  therefore  apply  to 
you,  either  to  urge  him  to  this  laudable  task,  or,  what 
would  be  still  better,  to  take  it  on  yourself.  Your  Saxon 
fit,  I  should  think,  must  be  pretty  well  over  by  this  time ; 
and  it  is'  really  of  more  consequence  to  the  cause  of 
modern  freedom  to  give  us  correct  ideas  of  Charles  than 
of  Alfred,  and  to  correct  the  blunders  of  Uume  than  of 
Bcde.  Make  a  stride,  therefore,  over  eight  centuries,  and 
show  us  the  true  beginnings  of  the  good  and  ill  that  are 
still  at  work  among  us,  &c. 


TO    MISS   BROWN.  175 

We  are-  all  well  here,  and  tolerably  quiet  and  harmo- 
nious,— Clerk  looking  the  part  of  Judge  admirably,  and 
Cranstoun  very  popular  as  Dean. 

Remember  ine  very  kindly  to  Lord  and  Lady  Holland. 

Write  me  a  line  in  answer,  and  believe  me,  very  truly 
yours. 

94. — To  Miss  Brown. 

Stuckgowp,  23d  September,  1824. 
My  dear  Harriet — 

We  had  a  lovely  day  for  coming  here ;  bright,  with 
great  slow-sailing  autumn  clouds,  sometimes  stooping  for 
a  while  on  the  peaks  of  the  hills,  sometimes  blackening 
their  sides  with  deep  shadows,  or  changing  the  skyish 
brilliancy  of  the  water  into  dark  marble.  We  left  the 
horses  to  feed  at  Luss,  and  walked  on  to  the  point  of 
Firkin,  where  I  left  the  females  to  jvait  for  the  carriage, 
and  went  over  the  heights  by  the  old  road,  &c. 

This  place  is  more  beautiful  than  ever,  and  the  sight  of 
Switzerland  has  not  spoiled  it  in  the  least.  The  trees 
have  grown  larger,  and  been  more  thinned.  The  house  is 
all  nicely  painted ;  and  here  is  Joseph  Stewart*  despairing 
for  you  beside  all  the  clear  streams  in  the  valleys.  Yes- 
terday being  glorious  with  sun  and  calm,  we  went  to  the 
top  of  Ben  Lomond  quite  leisurely  and  comfortably;  saw 
all  the  glorious  company  of  mountains,  from  Ben  Nevis  to 
Stirling ;  and  also  our  own  shadows,  surrounded  with 
glories,  reflected  on  the  mist.  We  got  down  in  the  most 
magnificent  sunset,  and  met  two  of  the  most  beautiful 
girls  in  the  Highlands  gathering  nuts  in  the  woods ;  and 
the  splendid  light  reflected  back  from  their  bright  eyes 
and  teeth  and  shining  curls,  as  they  sat  on  a  tuft  of  heath, 
with  the  dark  oak  coppice  behind  them,  made  the  loveliest 
and  most  romantic  picture  I  ever  looked  on.  I'his  morn- 

*  A  boatman. 


1TG  LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

ing  it  is  divinely  calm  and  warm,  though  a  light  summer 
mist  is  still  curling  on  the  water,  and  the  heavy  dew  drop- 
ping from  the  branches.  You  must  know  that  I  am 
writing  before  breakfast,  as  the  post  goes  off  at  -ten 

o'clock.     Miss  M'M ,  I  think,  is  younger  than  when  I 

left  her.  We  are  all  well ;  and  all  your  house  was  well 
when  we  passed.  They  are  all  a  little  sad  at  the  dropping 
of  the  last  of  the  old  line,  and  the  prospect  of  poor  old 
Daldowie  passing  into  the  hands  of  strangers.  There  was 
something  very  primitive  in  the  life  we  have  seen  and  led 
there,  and  which  nothing  else  is  very  likely  to  replace. 
But  so  the  tide  of  time  runs  on,  and  we  must  submit  to  be 
borne  along  with  it.  We  shall  stay  here  for  three  days 
more,  and  then  return  to  Glasgow,  and  so  to  Craigcrook. 
I  must  be  in  Aberdeen  by  the  4th  of  October,  and  after 
that  I  should  be  strongly  tempted  to  run  up  for  you,  if  my 
toils  and  duties  would  any  way  bear  that  intermission. 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  Harriet ;  I  said  something  harsh, 
I  believe,  of  your  new  friends,  in  my  last  letter,  but  it  had 
no  meaning,  and  may  be  forgotten.  Only  you  will  see  no 
lakes  like  this  lake,  nor  hills  like  these ;  and  we  have  many 
more  sounding  rills  and  singing  cascades,  and  far  more  of 
that  deep  solitude  and  wild  seclusion,  which  speak  to  the 
heart  more  impressively  than  shade  or  verdure  can  ever  do 
without  them. — Write  soon  again ;  and  believe  me,  very 
affectionately  yours. 

95.— To  Mr.  Malthus. 

6th  January,  1826. 

My  dear  Malthus — I  ought  to  have  thanked  you  before 
for  making  us  acquainted  with  the  Eckersalls,  to  whom  we 
take  mightily,  &c. 

It  is  long,  my  good  friend,  since  we  have  met  in  quiet 
and  comfort ;  for  these  little  glimpses,  during  my  fevered 
runs  to  London,  are  not  the  thing  at  all.  Will  you  not 
fy-ing  down  Mrs.  Malthus,  and  stay  a  few  weeks  with  us 


TO    MRS.  COLDEX.  177 

next  summer  at  Craigcr.ook  ?  I  have  a  great  deal  of  lei- 
sure after  the  middle  of  July,  and  I  am  persuaded  we 
could  find  sufficient  employment  for  you,  both  at  home  and 
on  our  travels.  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  learn  how 
severely  both  you  and  she  had  suffered  from  the  great  af- 
fliction which  has  befallen  you.  I  never  look  at  the  rosy 
cheeks  and  slender  form  of  my  only  child,  without  an  in- 
ward,shudder  at  the  thought  of  how  much  utter  wretched- 
ness is  suspended  over  me  by  so  slight  a  cord.  You  have 
still  two  such  holds  on  happiness,  and  may  they  never  be 
loosened,  &c. 

God  bless  you,  rny  dear  Malthus.  I  have  long  been  ac- 
customed to  qu'ote  you  as  the  very  best  example  I  know 
of  a  wise  and  happy  man.  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  obliged 
to  withdraw  either  epithet,  but  I  would  much  rather  part 
with  the  first  than  the  last. — Believe  me  always,  very  af- 
fectionately yours. 

$Q.—To  Mrs.  Golden,  New  York. 

Craigcrook,  29th  March,  1827. 

My  dear  Fanny — We  have  just  received  your  letter  of 
the  15th  of  February,  together  with  your  father's  of  the 
28th ;  and  I  have  been  so  much  interested  and  pleased 
with  yours,  that  I  have  asked  Charlotte  to  let  me  answer 
it ;  and  so  she  has  scampered  out  with  Charley,  and  left 
me  by  the  fire,  in  my  invalid  slippers,  to  talk  to  my  invalid 
sister  on  the  other  side  of  the  water.  I  always  take  a 
vast  affection  and  admiration  for  you  when  you  are  suffer- 
ing or  in  danger.  There  is  something  so  high-minded  and 
fair  in  the  light  way  you  speak  of  your  uneasinesses  and 
anxieties,  that  I  think  a  great  deal  more  tenderly  of  you 
and  them,  than  if  you  had  whined  and  shuddered  about 
them — as  a  spoiled  and  petted  child  like  you  might  have 
been  expected  to  do ;  and  enter  warmly  into  the  kind  soli- 
citude of  the  rest  of  your  family,  when  I  find  you  heroic 
enough  to  laugh  at  them,  I  earnestly  trust  that,  long 

M 


178  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

before  you  can  receive  this,  your  gentle  and  cheerful  mag- 
nanimity will  have  been  rewarded  by  such  a  consummation 
as  we  all  wish  for,  and  think  it  most  reasonable  to  expect. 
At  such  a  distance  as  this,  however,  it  is  impossible  to  be 
without  anxiety ;  &nd  I  feel  a  kind  of  dread  which  checks 
my  pen  in  its  course  of  levity,  and  bids  me  close  with, 
what  never  can  be  out  of  season,  my  earnest  prayers  for 
your  safety  and  happiness.  I  like  your  little  sketches  of 
people,  too,  though  I  do  not  know  them ;  and  all  those 
stories  of  marriage  and  children  which  speak  so  plainly  of 
a  new  and  rapidly-advancing  country.  Boys  and  girls  are 
fathers  and  mothers  before  they  are  twenty.  And  then 
they  go  on — being  fathers  and  mothers,  (as  witness  our 
dear  Eliza,)  through  toils  and  sickness,  till  their  oldest 
children  are  ready  to  take  up  the  manufacture — directing 
their  whole  souls,  days,  and  resources  to  carry  on  the  popu- 
lation of  the  country.  I  am  afraid  you  must  have  passed 
for  a  very  unpatriotic  matron  hitherto.  I  daresay  public 
considerations  have  had  their  share  in  making  you  so 
anxious  to  wipe  off  this  reproach.  Though  the  clan  of 
Golden  may  be  a  little  weak  for  a  while  in  consequence  of 
this  tardiness,  there  will  be  a  gallant  colony  of  Wilkes,  at 
all  events,  to  keep  up  your  connection.  In  about  forty 
years,  I  reckon  there  will  be  more  than  300  cousins  and 
second-cousins  of  you — with  none  of  them  starving,  and 
not  so  much  chance  of  any  of  them  being  hanged.  Whereas, 
if  any  family  had  ventured  to  multiply  in  that  manner  in 
the  old  country,  one  half  would  certainly  have  been  in  the 
hospital,  and  a  good  part  of  the  others  in  prison.  I  had 
another  pair  of  fair  nurses  and  comforters  in  my  past 
illness — I  mean  my  friend  Sidney  Smith's  daughters,  who 
left  me  about  ten  days  ago,  after  a  kind  and  delight- 
ful visit  of  five  weeks.  The  father  and  mother,  I  mean, 
were  here,  too;  and  though  so  large  an  addition  to  our 
quiet  family,  with  the  calling  and  visiting  it  brought  with 
it,  was  rather  wearing  now  and  then,  it  is  impossible  for 


TO    LORD    COCKBURN.  17.) 

any  thing  to  have  been  more  agreeable  than  our  domestic 
alliance.  He  is  the  gayest  man  and  the  greatest  wit  in 
England ;  and  yet,  to  those  who  know  him,  this  is  his  least 
recommendation.  His  kind  heart,  sound  sense,  and  uni- 
versal indulgence,  making  him  loved  and  esteemed  by 
many  to  whom  his  wit  was  unintelligible,  and  his  fancy 
only — [illegible.] — 

•   97. — To  Lord  Cockburn. 
(Just  after  Canning's  death.) 

Stuckgown,  Loch  Lomond,  13th  August,  1827. 
My  dear  C. — Though  this  hermit  life  suits  me  well,  yet 
these  great  and  sad  events  have  stirred  me  even  in  the 
depths  of  my  solitude,  and  made  me  long  a  little  to  know 
how  they  are  looked  upon  in  the  world.  I  have  yet  heard 
of  them  only  from  newspapers,  and  the  scope  of  most  of 
them  I  have  seen,  I  confess,  disgusts  me,  and  could  almost 
make  me  wish  to  be  a  hermit  for  life.  Mine  excellent  host 
is  a  bit  of  a  Tory,  and  takes  in  vile  trash,  so  that  it  is  not 
for  nothing  that  I  languish  for  the  words  of  Abercrombie 
and  Allen  on  this  subject.  It  is  a  sad  blow,  and  as  ill- 
timed  as  possible.  The  Whigs  have  ill  luck,  and  I  fear 
are  no  favourites  of  Providence  any  more  than  Cato  was 
before  them.  There  is  an  end,  I  fear,  for  the  present,  of 
this  new  and  bold  experiment  of  a  liberal  or  rational  go- 
vernment, for  Wellington  and  Peel,  I  think,  must  come 
back,  and  then  where  can  we  be,  but  where  we  were  before 
Liverpool's  demise,  or  still  further  back  perhaps  in  the 
blessed  one  of  Castlereagh  ?  I  do  not  expect  an  immediate 
dismissal  or  resignation  of  the  late  Whig  confederates ; 
but  can  they  act  with  those  associates,  coming  back  too  in 
the  spirit  of  a  restoration  ?  Can  they  act  without  Can- 
nirtg  ?  and  will  Brougham,  who  scarcely  submitted  to  be 
second  or  auxiliary  even  to  him,  consent  to  co-operate  in 
such  a  capacity  with  Peel,  or  somebody  perhaps  far  lower. 
Our  best  hope — for  this  is  flat  despair — is  that  no  farther 


180  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFHEY. 

coalition  should  be  attempted,  but  the  ministry  allowed  to 
settle  itself  in  an  anti-catholic,  legitimate,  intolerant  basis, 
and  see  how  it  can  maintain  itself  against  Ireland,  and 

reason,  and  manufacturers,  and ,  and  common  sense  ? 

God  help  us !  These  are  hermit  speculations,  and  very 
probably  already  ridiculous. 

I  expect  to  be  in  Glasgow  on  Friday  or  Saturday,  and 
•wish  you  would  write  me  a  line  to  say  how  those  things  are 
felt  and  judged  of  by  the  faithful.  I  think  I  am  better 
since  I  came  here.  I  ride  about  glorious  on  the  excise- 
man's pony,  and  am  received  with  much  reverence  as  a 
deputy  of  that  worthy  tax-gatherer.  It  has  been  fine 
showery  weather.  The  long  wet  has  filled  the  lake  up  to 
its  woody  edge,  and  brought  out  all  the  voices  of  the  tenants, 
and  all  the  sweets  of  the  limes  and  birches.  We  have 
thoughts  of  going  round  by  Inverary.  What  is  Richard- 
son doing  ?  And  our  poor  excellent  Sir  Henry  is  gone  ! 
These  notifipations  make  one  sad  in  spite  of  reason  and  ex- 
perience. I  think  I  shall  be  at  Craigcrojok  again  about 
the  20th,  and  till  then  I  shall  not  determine  about  going 
to  Harrowgate,  or  any  other  health  well.  When  is  that 
eternal  Glasgow  valuation  to  come  on  after  all  ?  I  shall 
not  derange  myself  to  be  at  it,  after  so  many  countermands. 
Where  is  Murray,  and  Thomas,  and  Kutherfurd,  and 
Sophy  ?  Send  me  a  brief  Edinburgh  bulletin,  or  I  shall 
come  back  to  you  like  one  of  the  sleepers  awaked.  With 
kindest  love  from  all  our  party  to  Mrs.  C.  and  Jeanie. — 
Always  very  affectionately  yours. 

98.— To  Lord  Oockburn. 

Glasgow,  19th  August,  1827. 

My  dear  Cockburn — I  thank  you  for  your  despatches, 
which  contain  all  I  wanted  to  hear.  The  last,  which  I  got 
last  night,  was  particularly  acceptable,  especially  for  the 
good  prospect  it  holds  out  of  Lord  Holland's  succession  to 
office,  of  which  Allen  surely  must  be  able  to  speak  with 


TO   LORD   COCKBURN.  181 

some  confidence.  He  and  Auckland  are  the  very  best, 
after  Lansdowne,  to  give  stability  to  the  mixed  government, 
from  their  practical  good  sense,  temper,  and  moderation — 
qualities,  in  the  present  crisis,  of  infinitely  more  import- 
ance than  ingenuity  or  genius,  &c. 

Alas  !  for  poor  Sir  Henry 'and  ancient  Hermand  !*  It 
is  sad  to  have  no  more  talk  of  times  older  than  our  own, 
and  to  be  ourselves  the  vouchers  for  all  traditional  anti- 
quity. I  fear,  too,  that  we  shall  be  less  characteristic  of  a 
past  age  than  those  worthies,  who  lived  before  manners 
had  become  artificial  and  uniform,  and  opinion  guarded 
and  systematic.  However,  we  must  support  each  other, 
and  continue  to  be  amiable  among  our  juniors,  if  we  can- 
not manage  to  be  venerable. 

We  came  round  by  Inverary  after  leaving  Loch  Lomond, 
and  returned  by  Loch  Long,  slowly  and  voluptuously ; — 
beautiful  weather,  one  day  sun,  and  the  other  shade,  and 
the  last  the  sweetest.  The  doctor  thinks  me  in  the  way  of 
recovery,  if  I  can  keep  sober  company,  and  avoid  too  much 
excitement,  and  says  I  need  not  go  to  Harrowgate,  unless 
I  find  it  necessary  for  these  objects ;  so  we  shall  hold  a 
consult  at  Craigcrook,  and  deliberate  on  these  things. 
Pray,  dine  there  on  Thursday  with  Mrs.  C.  and  Jeanie, 
and  ask  Thomas  and  the  Rutherfurds,  and  any  others  you 
think  worthy.  I  hope  Crieffy's  daughter  will  not  die.  I 
wish  I  could  summon  up  energy  enough  to  write  a  pane- 
gyric on  old  Sir  Henry ;  and  if  I  were  at  home  I  think  I 
should.  But  I  can  do  nothing  anywhere  else  ;  and  I  sup- 
pose Andrew  Thomsonf  will  make  one  in  a  printed  sermon, 
after  which  mine  would  seem  impertinent  and  impious,  &c. 

*  Sir  Harry  Moncrieff,  and  George  Fergusson,  Lord  Hermand,  had 
both  died  on  the  9th  of  this  August, 
f  The  Rev.  Andrew  Thomson, 

VOL.  II.— 16 


182  LIFE    OF    LOUD    JEFFUEV. 

99. —  To  Mr».  James  Craig  (in  England.} 

Craigcrook,  21st  October,  1828. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Craig — Alas,  alas,  we  are  not  coming 
this  year  yet ;  and  this  paltry  little  paper  is  all  that  is 
still  to  speak  to  you  for  me.  I  did  intend  though,  most 
sincerely,  and  wish  most  anxiously,  to  come  to  you ;  and 
till  within  these  last  ten  days,  I  clung  to  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  make  it  out;  but  now,  at  last,  I  must  renounce,  and 
fancy  it  is  necessary  to  let  you  know,  &c. 

.We  have  been  stationary,  on  the  whole,  all  this  season, 
and  since  our  August  pilgrimage  to  Loch  Lomond,  have 
not  been  further  than  Ayr  and  Galloway.  We  have  been 
propitiating  the  household  and  hospitable  gods  here,  in  our 
domestic  shades,  and  among  more  shade  and  verdure  than 
I  ever  remember  at  Craigcrook.  We  hav.e  had  some 
pleasant  strangers,  and  all  our  old  pleasant  friends.  Cock- 
burn  has  deserted  us  more  than  usual ;  first,  for  his  Eng- 
lish friends,  and  then  for  those  in  the  north,  having  been 
a  week  or  more  with  the  Lauder  Dicks,  and  passing  twice 
by  Rothiemurchus.  We  have  had  a  good  deal  of  the  Mur- 
ray s  ;  his  mother's  very  precarious  health  keeping  them 
more  constantly  at  home  than  usual  at  this  season.  The 
Rutherfurds  have  been  staying  with  us,  and  Thomson  and 
Fullerton  are  steady  adherents  of  the  city.  We  are  all 
well, — that  is,  always  excepting  my  interesting  trachea, 
which  remains  nearly  as  it  was.  Charley  blooming  and 
bright,  and  at  least  as  tall  as  her  father,  which  is  not  say- 
ing much  ; — living  lovingly  and  tranquil,  without  envy  or 
eclat,  and  growing  old  and  insignificant  in  a  very  exem- 
plary manner. 

You  see  how  I  presume  on  my  old  privileges,  and  quietly 
take  it  for  granted  that  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  all  this 
twaddle  about  ourselves;  and  so  you  will,  I  know;  and 
will  also  gratify  us  by  telling  us  again  the  wneventful  his- 
tory of  your  current  life.  We  must  not  grow  strangers  to 


TO   CHARLES    WILKES.  183 

each  other  while  we  remain  together  on  this  same  English 
earth,  and  I  long  continually  to  hear  of  one  of  whom  I 
think  with  unabated  interest  every  sunny  morning  and 
every  moonlight  night,  &c. 

All  my  house  send  their  love  to  you ;  not  only  the 
Charlottes,  but  Kitty,  and  Fanny,  and  my  poll  parrot,  and 
my  thrush,  and  various  other  pets,  on  which  I  have  been 
obliged  to  lavish  my  waste  affection  since  I  have  lost  you. 
Alas !  alas !  there  is  no  living  without  these  things ;  and 
so  no  more. — God  bless  you,  and  good  night. 

100.— To  Mrs.  Craig. 

Craigcrook,  8th  April,  1829. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Craig — 

We  have  been  here  about  a  fortnight,  something  nipped 
with  east  winds,  but  very  tranquil  and  contented.  It  is 
an  infinite  relief  to  get  away  from  those  courts  and  crowds, 
to  sink  into  a  half  slumber  on  one's  own  sofa,  without  fear 
of  tinkling  bells  and  importunate  attorneys  ;  to  read  novels 
and  poems  by  a  crackling  wood  fire,  and  go  leisurely  to 
sleep  without  feverish  anticipations  of  to-morrow's  battles ; 
to  lounge  over  a  long  breakfast,  looking  out  on  glittering 
evergreens  and  chuckling  thrushes ;  and  dawdle  about  the 
whole  day  in  the  luxury  of  conscious  idleness,  &c. 

IQl.—To  Charles  Wilkes,  Esq.,  New  York. 

Craigcrook,  28th  March,  1830. 

My  dear  Friend — I  never  saw  three  such  days  in  March. 
To  be  sure,  they  are  the  first  days  of  my  vacation,  and 
come  after  a  hard  winter  of  work  and  weather.  But  they 
have  been  so  deliciously  soft,  so  divinely  calm  and  bright, 
and  the  grass  is  so  green,  and  the  pale  blue  sky  so  reso- 
nant with  larks  in  the-morning,  and  the  loud  strong  bridal 
chuckle  of  blackbirds  and  thrushes  at  sunset,  and  the  air 
so  lovesick  with  sweetbrier,  and  the  garden  so  bright  with 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

hepaticas,  and  primroses,  atid  violets,  ami  my  transplanted 
trees  dancing  out  so  gracefully  from  my  broken  clumps, 
and  my  leisurely  evenings  wearing  away  so  tranquilly,  that 
they  have  passed  in  a  £ort  of  enchantment,  to  which  I 
scarcely  remember  any  thing  exactly  parallel  since  I  first 
left  college  in  the  same  sweet  season  to  meditate  on  my 
first  love,  in  my  first  ramble  in  the  Highlands. 

Well,  it  is  a  fine  tiling  this  spring,  especially  when  it 
comes  with  the  healing  of  leisure  on  its  wings,  and  after  a 
long  dark  season  of  labour,  and  winter,  and  weariness.  I 
never  have  had  such  hard  work  as  this  last  session ;  and 
though  I  never  made  so  much  money,  I  should  willingly 
have  compounded  for  less  of  both.  But  it  is  difficult, 
if  not  impossible,  to  make  such  an  election — as  difficult  as 
to  go  gently  under  the  influence  of  a  strong  current  and 
brisk  gale.  And  besides,  in  the  first  year  of  my  official 
supremacy,*  I  thought  it  right  to  show  I  was  equal  to  all 
the  work  of  the  first  employment.  My  health  has  not  suf- 
fered from  the  exertion ;  for  though  I  have  had  annoy- 
ances and  infirmities  of  diverse  sorts,  I  am  satisfied  that 
none  of  them  have  been  brought  on  or  aggravated  by  my 
work. 

We  shall  be  here  for  about  a  fortnight  only,  and  then 
we  shall  run  up  for  a  week  or  two  to  London,  where  I  take 
the  excuse  of  two  or  three  appeals  that  have  been  pressed 
upon  me  to  pay  a  visit ; — my  real  objects  being  to  air  my- 
self, to  see  some  friends,  to  consult  some  doctors  about  my 
unhappy  trachea  and  some  swelling  veins  in  my  leg,  and 
to  glad  my  dim  eyes  with  the  sight  of  that  lovely  green, 
to  which  there  is  nothing  to  be  compared  in  any  part  of 
the  world, — the  first  flush  of  the  vernal  green  of  the  south- 
ern parts  of  England,  before  the  velvet  of  the  grass  is 
speckled  with  flowers  and  rank  tufta.  I  take  my  Charlotte 
with  me  of  course,  and  though  my  retainers  are  far  enough 

*  His  Deanship. 


TO    GEORGE   J.  BELL.  185 

from  being  splendid,  they  will  pay  for  my  journey,  and 
the  duller  work  I  must  have  been  doing  if  I  had  not 
taken  it,  &c. 

At  home  things  are  still  in  a  strange,  and,  I  fear,  rather 
precarious  state,  though  the  duke  is  supposed  to  be  rather 
stronger  than  after  meeting  of  Parliament.  We  are  in 
the  full -career  of  economical  and  legal  reform.  Under  the 
last  head,  there  is  a  talk  of  reducing  the  number  of  our 
Scottish  judges,  and  not  filling  up  the  three  or  four  that 
are  first  vacated, — a  resolution  rather  ominous  to  aspirants 
turned  of  fifty,  and  which  would  annoy  me  more  than  any 
one  man  in  the  profession,  if  I  happened  to  care  any  thing 
about  it,  which  I  do  not.  If  I  were  but  a  little  richer,  I 
think  I  should  decline  any  such  appointment,  and  would 
do  well  so  to  decide.  But  we  shall  see.  If  I  were  so  to 
decline,  who  knows  whether  I  might  not  come  over  once 
more  to  see  you  and  your  wonderful  country  ?  But,  in  the 
mean  time,  pray  come  once  more  to  see  us,  and  perhaps 
we  may  see  you  home  again. 

With  kindest  love  to  all. — Ever  affectionately  yours. 

102.— To  G-eorge  J.  Bell,  Esq. 

November,  1830. 

My  dear  Bell* — I  think  I  should  not  be  so  much  de- 
lighted with  your  partiality,  if  I  were  not  conscious"  of 
being  altogether  undeserving  of  it.  I  am  only  afraid  that 
you  find  me  out  one  day  or  other  to  be  a  much  poorer 
creature  than  you  imagined.  However,  I  love  and  esteem 
you  beyond  any  man  upon  earth ;  and  if  that  give  me  any 
claim  to  your  affection,  I  think  I  have  a  chance  to  retain 
it.  I  am  a  little  ashamed  and  humiliated  at  the  proofs  you 
are  giving  of  your  superior  industry  and  talents ;  but  all 
that  is  painful  in  the  feeling  is  very  indolent  and  insignifi- 

*  Mr.  Bell  had  just  dedicated  his  "  Principles  of  the  Law  of  Scotland" 
to  him. 


186  LIFE   OF   LOUD  JEFFREY. 

cant ;  and  Hook  forward  with  pleasure,  altogether  unmixed 
with  envy,  to  the  time  when  your  exertions  shall  have 
placed  you  in  a  situation  in  which  your  friendship  for  me 
•will  have  something  of  the  air  of  condescension. — Believe 
me  always,  your  very  affectionate  friend. 

103. — To  Mr.  Empson. 

Qrantham,  Monday  Evening, 
8l8t  January,  1881. 

My  dear  E. — Here  we  are  on  our  way  to  you ;  toiling 
up  through  snow  and  darkness,  with  this  shattered  carcase 
and  this  reluctant  and  half-desponding  spirit.  You  know 
how  I  hate  early  rising ;  and  here  have  I  been  for  three 
days  up  two  hours  before  the  sun,  and,  blinking  by  »  dull 
taper,  haggling  at  my  inflamed  beard  before  a  little  pimp- 
ing inn  looking-glass,  and  abstaining  from  suicide  only 
from  a  deep  sense  of  religion  and  love  to  my  country.  To- 
night it  snows  and  blows,  and  there  is  good  hope  of  our 
being  blocked  up  at  Witham  Corner,  or  Alcontery  Hill,  or 
some  of  these  lonely  retreats,  for  a  week  or  so,  or  fairly 
stuck  in  the  drift,  and  obliged  to  wade  our  way  to  some 
such  hovel  as  received  poor  Lear  and  his  fool  in  some  such 
season.  Oh,  dear,  dear !  But  in  the  mean  time  we  are 
sipping  we.ak  black  tea  by  the  side  of  a  tolerable  fire,  and 
are  in  hopes  of  reaching  the  liberties  of  Westminster  before 
dark  on  Wednesday.  We  have  secured  lodgings,  I  believe, 
at  37  Jermyn  Street,  -where,  if  you  could  have  the  great 
kindness  to  present  yourself  at  any  time  after  four  on 
Thursday,  you  would  diffuse  more  joy  over  an  innocent  and 
exiled  family  than  they  have  any  of  them  tasted  since  they 
were  driven  from  their  fatherland.  This  is  all  the  purpose 
of  my  writing,  and  I  am  too  sleepy,  or  tired  at  least,  to 
say  any  more.  ,..*•-• 

There  is  not  much  fair  weather  before  us,  I  fear,  politi- 
cally, any  more  than  physically  ;  and  the  only  comfort  is, 
that  we  are  honest  and  mean  well.  In  that  respect  there 


TO   LORD  .COCKBURN.  -  187 

has  been  no  such  ministry  in  England.  Our  other  advan- 
tage, and  our  only  one,  is,  that  the  only  party  that  can 
now  turn  us  out  must  be  mad,  or  worse,  to  risk  the  experi- 
ment in  the  present  temper  of  the  country  and  state  of  the 
times.  The  real  battle  that  is  soon  to  be  fought,  and  the 
only  one  now  worth  providing  for,  is  not  between  Whigs 
and  Tories,  Liberals  and  Illiberals,  and  such  gentlemanlike 
denominations,  but  between  property  and  no  property — 
swing  and  the  law.  In  that  battle  all  our  Tory  opponents 
must  be  on  the  same  side  with  us ;  and  as  we  are  now  in 
lawful  command  under  the  king, -it  is  plain  that  they  should 
range  themselves  under  our  standard,  and  not  make  a  mu- 
tiny in  the  camp.  We  did  so  by  them  when  Ireland  was  to 
be  snatched  from  the  burning ;  and  they  are  bound  by  a 
nearer  and  more  fearful  peril  to  do  so  by  us  now. 

But  we  shall  talk  of  these  things.  I  am  not  very  robus- 
tious, and  have  had  a  long  weakening  cold.  My  ladies  are 
with  me,  fast  asleep  under  a  mountain  of  shawls.  Love  to 
Macaulay  and  Lady  Park.  I  hope  his  history  is  done,  and 
that  he  will  soon  be  restored  to  his  disconsolate  friends. 
Remember  37  Jermyn  Street. — Ever  yours. 

104.— To  Lord  Cockburn. 

7th  April,  1831. 

My  dear  C. — I  was  duly  elected  at  Malton  yesterday. 
I  got  there  on  Tuesday  at  one  o'clock ;  and  attended  by 
twelve  forward  disciples  instantly  set  'forth  to  call  on  my 
700  electors,  and  solicit  the  honour  of  their  votes.  In  three 
hours  and  a  half  I  actually  called  at  635  doors,  and  shook 
494  men  by  the  hand.  Next  day  the  streets  were  filled 
with  bands  of  music,  and  flags,  and  streamers  of  all  de- 
scriptions ;  in  the  midst  of  which  I  was  helped  up,  about 
eleven  o'clock,  to  the  dorsal  ridge  of  a  tall  prancing  steed, 
decorated  with  orange  ribbdns,  having  my  reins  and  stir- 
rups held  by  men  in  the  borough  liveries,  and  a  long  range 
of  flags  and  music  moving  around  me.  In  this  state  I 


188  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

paraded  through  all  the  streets  at  a  foot  pace,  stopping  at 
every  turning  to  receive  three  huzzas,  and  to  bow  to  all  the 
women  in  the  windows.  At  twelve  I  was  safely  deposited 
in  the  market-place,  at  the  foot  of  a  square-built  scaffold, 
packed  quite  full  of  people ;  and  after  some  dull  ceremo- 
nies, was  declared  duly  elected,  by  a  show  of  hands  and 
fervent  acclamations.  After  which  I  addressed  the  multi- 
tude, amounting,  they  say,  to  near  5000  persons,  in  very 
eloquent  and  touching  terms ;  and  was  then  received  into 
a  magnificent  high-backed  chair,  covered  with  orange  silk, 
and  gay  with  flags  and  streamers,  on  which  I  was  borne  on 
the  shoulders  of  six  electors,  nodding  majestically  through 
all  the  streets  and  streetlings  ;  and  at  length  returned  safe 
and  glorious  to  my  inn.  At  five  o'clock  I  had  to  entertain 
about  120  of  the  more  respectable  of  my  constituents,  and 
to  make  divers  speeches  till  near  eleven  o'clock ;  having, 
in  the  mean  time,  sallied  out  a.t  the  head  of  twenty  friends, 
to  visit  another  party  of  nearly  the  same  magnitude,  who 
were  regaling  in  an  inferior  inn,  and  whom  .we  found  in  a 
state  of  far  greater  exaltation.  All  the  Cayleys,  male  and 
female,  were  kind  enough  to  come  in  and  support  me ;  and 
about  'eleven  I  contrived  to  get  away,  with  Sir  George  and 
his  son-in-law,  and  came  out  here  with  a  great  cavalcade 
about  midnight.  The  thing  is  thought  to  have  gone  off 
brilliantly.  What  it  has  cost,  I  do  not  know ;  but  the  ac- 
counts are  to  be  settled  by  Lord  Milton's  agent,  and  sent 
to  me  to  London. 

The  place  from  which  I  write  belongs  to  &  Mr.  Worsley, 
a  man  of  large  fortune,  who  has  married  one  of  Sir  George 
Cayley's  daughters,  and  has  assembled  their  whole  gene- 
alogy in  his  capacious  mansion.  You  know  I  always  took 
greatly  to  the  family,  and  like  them  if  possible  better  the 
more  I  see  of  them  in  their  family  circle.  The  youngest, 
who  is  about  sixteen,  and  I  have  long  avowed  a  mutual 
flame;  and  the  second,  who  is  to  be  married  next  month, 
is  nearly  a  perfect  beauty.  But  it  is  the  sweet  blood  and 


TO   MRS.  "LAING.  189 

the  naturalness  and  gayety  of  heart  which  I  chiefly  admire 
in  them;  and  after  my  lonely  journey  and  tiresome  elec- 
tion, the  delight  of  roaming  about  these  vernal  valleys,  in 
the  idleness  of  a  long  sunny  day,  in  the  midst  of  their 
bright  smiles  and  happy  laughs,  reconciles  me  to  existence 
again.  It  is  a  strange  huge  house,  built  about  eighty  years 
ago  on  a  sort  of  Italian  model,  and  full  of  old  pictures 
and  books,  and  cabinets  full  of  gimcracks,  and  portfolios 
crammed  with  antique  original  sketches  and  engravings, 
and  closets  full  of  old  plate  and  dusty  china,  which  would 
give  Thomson  and  you,  and  Johnny  Clerk  in  his  better 
days,  work  enough  for  a  month,  though  I,  who  have  only 
a  day  to  spare,  prefer  talking  with  living  creatures.  This 
is  all  very  childish  and  foolish,  I  confess,  for  a  careful 
senator,  at  a  great  national  crisis.  But  I  have  really  been 
so  hard  worked  and  bothered  of  late,  that  you  must  excuse 
me  if  I  enjoy  one  day  of  relaxation.  I  go  off  to-morrow 
at  six  o'clock,  &c. 

105.— To  Mrs.  Laing. 

(The  widow  of  Malcolm  Laing,  Esq.,  the  Historian  of 
Scotland.) 

London,  8th  July,  1831. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Laing — A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kind 
and  amiable  letter.  It  breathes  the  very  spirit  of  happi- 
ness— and  of  all  that  deserves  happiness ;  and  I  rejoice  in 
it,  and  try  not  to  envy  it.  It  is  very  soothing  to  me  to 
think  of  you  at  Craigcrook,  and  that  you  will  be  happy 
there.  But  you  are  happy  everywhere,  and  make  all  places 
happy  to  which  you  come.  Would  to  Heaven  I  were  with 
you,  among  the  roses  and  the  beeches.  After  all,  why 
should  I  not  "be  there  ?  I  have  money  enough  nearly  to 
live  there  in  independent  idleness,  (at  least  with  the  help 
of  your  domestic  economy,)  and  the  world  would  gp  on 
about  as  well,  I  daresay,  although  I  passed  my  days  in 
reading  and  gardening,  and  my  nights  in  unbroken  slum- 


190  .        LIFE    OF    LOUD   JEFFREY. 

bers.  Why,  then,  should  I  vex  my  worn  and  shattered 
frame  with  toils  and  efforts,  and  disturb  the  last  sands  in 
my  hour-glass  with  the  shaking  of  a  foolish  ambition? 
Why  indeed  ?  Why  does  nobody  do  what  is  most  condu- 
cive to  their  happiness  ?  Or,  rather,  why  are  we  all  framed 
and  moulded  into  such  artificial  creatures  as  to  require  the 
excitement  of  habitual  exertions,  and  the  dream  of  ideal 
importance,  and  the  strong  exercise  of  hard  work,  to  keep 
us  out  of  ennui  and  despondency,  and  a  stealing  torpor 
and  depressing  feeling  of  insignificance?  It  is  something 
of  this  kind  with  all  of  us,  and  we  magnify  it  into  a  notion 
of  duty,  and  a  pretence  of  being  useful  in  our  generation ! 
I  think  I  shall  break  loose  one  day  very  soon  from  these 
trammels,  and  live  the  life  of  nature  and  reason  after  all. 
It  is  a  bad  experiment,  I  know,  at  those  years.  But  if  my 
health  stand  the  change,  I  am  pretty  sure  that  my  spirits 
would.  Only  I  must  get  through  this  job  first.  And  then, 
I  suppose,  I  shall  discover  that  I  must  make  up  my  losses 
by  a  year  or  two's  hard  work  at  the  bar,  and  then  that  it 
will  be  a  duty  to  the  public  to  go  on  the  bench  when  I 
begin  to  fall  into  dotage,  and  to  my  family,  to  expose  my- 
self and  shorten  my  life  by  ridiculous  exertions. 

There  is  a  sermon  for  you !  Heaven  knows  what  has 
led  me  into  it ;  for  I  only  meant  to  thank  you,  and  to  say 
that  you  may  do  what  you  like  with  my  picture,  (and  the 
original !)  &c. 

106.—  To  Lord  Cockbum. 

London,  23d  August,  1831. 

H;  of  C.,  five  o'clock. — We  expect  a  breeze  to-night 
about  that  damned  Dublin  election,  and  I  am  rather 
anxious  to  see  in  what  tone  we  take  up  the 'apology.  In 
the  mean  time  you  see  the  anti-reformers  have  made  the 
election  sure. 

Lovely  weather  still,  and  warm  showers.  I  ran  out  of 
the  House  for  two  hours  last  night  to  Vauxhall,  and  saw 


TO    LORD    COCKBURN.  391 

the  balloon  soar  up  from  a  cloud  of  red  light  glowing  all 
over  the  car,  and  glittering  expanse  below,  into  the  pure 
tranquillity  of  the  sweetest  moonlight,  which  came  checker- 
ing in  among  the  trees  beyond.  It  was  beyond  compa- 
rison beautiful.  All  my  household  have  gone  to  walk  in 

the garden ;  while  I  am.  about  to  enter  into 

that  hold  of  a  slave-ship,  and  with  little  hope  even  of  get- 
ting to  the  reform  committee  to-night,  at  least  till  very 
late. 

I  shall  send  you  my  new  clause  to-morrow,  &c. 

107.— To  Lord  CocJcburn. 

London,  Sunday  Evening, 

9th  October,  1831. 

My  dear  C. — You  will  have  heard  of  this  fatal  division.* 
We  will  not  resign ;  and  this  is  almost  all  the  comfort  I 
can  give  you,  &c.  In  the  mean  time,  the  country  must 
do  its  duty ;  first,  and  chiefly,  by  being  quiet  and  orderly ; 
and  next,  by  expressing  its  adherence  to  the  bill  and  the 
ministry  in  all  firm  and  lawful  ways.  Althorpe  is  rather 
anxious  that  those  indications  should  be  reserved  till  we 
are  near  meeting  again ;  but  most  people  think  it  better 
not  to  repress  them  now,  when  the  feeling  is  most  ardent. 
In  fact,  the  tone  will  be  given,  whether  we  choose  it  or  not, 
by  London  and  the  great  towns  in  the  heart  of  England. 
And  this  should  and  must  be  followed.  Only  be  quiet. 
The  chief  hope  of  the  enemy  is  that  you  will  not.  Then 
several  bishops  will  die  (or  be  killed)  or  converted ;  and 
several  lay  lords  also.  Then,  when  we  meet,  probably  in 
January,  we  shall  bring  in  the  bill  again,  with  some  im- 
provements in  mechanism,  and  a  few  obnoxious  things  cor- 
rected— such,  most  probably,  as  the  division  of  counties — 
and  then  passing  more  quietly  through  the  Commons,  we 
shall  offer  it  again  to  the  Lords,  who,  it  is  surmised,  will 

*  In  the  Lords,  throwing  out  the  Reform  Bill. 


192  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

not  dare  again  to  reject.  But  having  satisfied  their  honour 
by  the  victory  and  delay,  will  find  out  that  the  state  of  the 
country  is  not  what  they  imagined, — that  all  they  meant 
was  to  give  time  for  deliberate  consideration,  and  that  it  is 
not  by  any  means  so  bad  as  it  was  before ;  and,  in  short, 
that  though  they  still  hate  and  fear  it,  they  must  submit 
to  a  necessary  evil  and  accept  it,  under  protest,  for  honour 
of  the  drawers,  &c. 

108.— To  Miss  Cockbum. 
(Dictated  to  'Mrs.  Jeffrey.) 

London,  17tli  October,  1831. 

My  dear  Jane — I  cannot  write  to  you  with  my  own 
hand,  having  been  gashed  with  doctors'  knives  but  three 
hours  ago ;  but  it  is  a  pleasure  to  tell  you  that  I  am  alive 
and  in  good  hope,  of  soon  getting  better.  I  was  very  much 
gratified  with  your  kind  letter,  and  particularly  with  your 
reliance  upon  my  kindness  and  affection.  I  am  naturally 
very  constant  in  love ;  and  having  taken  a  passion  for  you 
when  you  were  little  more  than  a  baby,  I  assure  you  I 
shall  not  change,  although  you  should  turn  out  even  a 
greater  woman  than  you  are.  I  could  say  a  great  deal 
more  on  this  subject,  were  it  not  letting  Charley,  who  is 
already  beginning  to  blush,  too  much  into  our  confidence ; 
but  I  hope  the  time  will  soon  come,  when  I  may  open  my 
heart  to  you  without  the  interference  of  any  other  person. 
Tell  your  papa  that  I  have  communicated  with  Lord  Mel- 
bourne about  Heath,  and  that  he  is  not  to  be  respited. 
Tell  him,  also,  that  we  shall  not  be  prorogued  till  Thurs- 
day, and  probably  shall  not  meet  again  till  the  first  week 
in  December,  which  is  too  short  a  holiday  for  one  in  my 
condition  to  think  of  going  to  Scotland.  I  am  anxious  to 
hear  of  the  public  meeting,  and  hope  somebody  has  sent 
me  a  newspaper  with  a  good  account  of  it. 

'I  have  a  charming,  kind,  cheerful  letter  from  your  mo- 
ther, containing  such  pleasing  accounts  of  the  restoration 


TO   MISS  COCKBURN.  193 

of  sick  children  to  health,  that  the  very  reading  of  it 
should  go  far  to  recover  a  young  sufferer  like  me ;  and 
indeed  there  is  something  quite  balsamic  in  the  air  of  in- 
nocent enjoyment  and  domestic  affection  that  breathes  all 
over  it. 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  Jane ;  and  may  you  be  long- 
well  and  happy,  after  we  lovers  of  an  older  race  have 
ceased  to  be  any  thing  but  objects  of  kind  remembrance. 
You  have  got  through  the  usual  portion  of  illness  and  suf- 
fering in  very  early  life,  and,  I  hope,  cleared  off  all  scores 
of  that  sort  for  the  rest  of  your  existence.  The  sweetness 
and  fortitude  with  which  you  have  borne  it  must  have 
formed  you  to  many  valuable  habits,  and  have  certainly 
endeared  you  to  those  who  loved  you  before.  I  wish  to 
Gqd  I  might  expect  the  same  good  fruits  from  my  maturer 
chastisements  !  Farewell,  my  dear  Jane. — Ever  very  af- 
fectionately yours. 

109.— To  Lord  Cockburn. 

London,  18th  December,  1831. 

My  dear  C. — We  made  a ,  grand  division  last  night,  or 
rather  this  morning, — 324,  out  of  a  house  of  486, — ex- 
actly two  to  one.  The  debate,  on  the  whole,  was  not  inte- 
resting.    made  a  most  impertinent,  unfair,  and 

petulant  speech ;  but  with  passages  of  great  cleverness. 
Macaulay  made,  I  think,  the  best  he  has  yet  delivered — 
the  most  condensed,  at  least,  and  with  the  greatest  weight 
of  matter.  It  contained  the  only  argument,  indeed,  to 
which  any  of  the  speakers  who  followed  him  applied  them- 
selves. There  was  a  very  running  fire  of  small  calibres 
all  the  early  part  of  yesterday ;  but  there  were,  in  the 
end,  three  remarkable  speeches.  First,  a  mild,  clear, 
authoritative  vindication  of  the  measure  upon  broad 
grounds,  and  in  answer  to  general  imputations,  by  Lord 
J.  Russell,  delivered  with  a  louder  voice  and  more  decided 
manner  than  usual  with  him.  Next,  a  magnificent,  spi- 

VOL.  II.— 17  N 


194  LIFE    OF   LORD    JEFFREY. 

rited,  and  most  eloquent  speech  by  Stanley,  chiefly  in  cas- 

tigation  of ,  whom  he  trampled  in  the  dirt;  but 

containing  also  a  beautiful  and  spirited  vindication  of  the 
whole  principle  and  object  of  reform.  This  was  by  far 
the  best  speech  I  have  heard  from  S. ;  and,  I  fancy,  much 
•the  best  he  has  ever  made.  It  was  the  best,  too,  I  must 
own,  in  the  debate  ;  for  though  Macaulay's  was  more  logi- 
cal and  full  of  thought,  this  was  more  easy,  spirited,  and 
graceful.  The  last  was  Peel's,  which,  though  remarkable, 
was  not  good,  &c.  !  ><, 

110.— To  Lord  Cockburn. 

London,  12th  February,  1832. 

I  dined  yesterday  at  Lord  Carlisle's,  and  to-day  at 
Lord  Althorpe's.  The  first  had  ladies,  and,  consequently, 
was  ^  the  most  gay  and  agreeable, — to  say  nothing  of 
having  Sidney  Smith  and  Luttrell.  But  Lady  Morley 
was  my  great  charm ;  out  of  all  sight  the  wittiest  and 
most  original  woman  in  London,  and  yet  not  at  all  a  kill- 
joy, but  an  encourager  of  all  other  inferior  gayeties,  and 
with  not  the  least  mixture  of  spite  or  uncharity  in  her 
pleasantry.  She  is  rather  stricken  in  years,  so  there  is 
no  disturbance  of  my  judgment  upon  her  on  that  score. 
We  had  also  all  the  Lady  Blanches  and  Lady  Georginas 
of  the  family,  who,  with  their  mother,  have  the  true, 
sweet-blooded  simplicity  of  the  old  English  aristocracy; 
to  which,  I  grieve  to  say,  we  have  nothing  parallel,  and 
not  much  in  the  same  rank  that  is  not  in  harsh  contrast, 
in  Scotland. 

To-day's  party  was  small,  but  it  grew  very  delightful  in 
the  end,  when  it  was  still  smaller,  and  had  dwindled  down 
to  Lord  Nugent,  Poulett  Thompson,  Cam  Hobhouse,  and 
myself.  Althorpe,  with  his  usual  frankness,  gave  us  a 
pretended  confession  of  faith  and  a  sort  of  creed  of  his 
political  morality,  and  avowed  that,  though  it  was  a  very 


TO    MISS   COCKBURN.  195 

shocking  doctrine  to  promulgate,  he  must  say  that  he  had 
never  sacrificed  his  own  inclinations  to  a  sense  of  duty 
without  repenting  it,  and  always  found  himself  more  sub- 
stantially unhappy  for  having  exerted  himself  for  the  pub- 
lic good  !  We  all  combated  this  atrocious  heresy  the  best 
way  we  could ;  but  he  maintained  it  with  an  air  of  sin- 
cerity, and  a  half-earnest,  half-humorous  face,  and  a  dex- 
terity of  statement  that  was  quite  striking.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  his  beaming  eye  and  benevolent  lips  kin- 
dling as  he  answered  us,  and  dealt  out  his  natural,  familiar 
repartees  with  the  fearlessness  as  if  of  perfect  sincerity, 
and  the  artlessness  of  one  who  sought  no  applause,  and 
despised  all  risk  of  misconstruction ;  and  the  thought  that 
this  was  the  leader  of  the  English  House  of  Commons, — no 
speculator,  or  discourser,  or  adventurer, — but  a  man  of 
sense  and  business,  of  the  highest  rank,  and  the  largest 
experience  both  of  affairs  and  society.  We  had  also  a 
great  deal  of  talk  about  Nelson,  and  Collingwood,  and 
other  great  commanders,  whom  he  knew  in  his  youth,  and 
during  his  father's  connection  with  the  navy;  and  all  of 
whom  he  characterized  with  a  force  and  simplicity  which 
was  quite  original  and  striking.  I  would  have  given  a 
great  deal  to  have  had  a  Boswell  to  take  a  note  of  the 
table  talk ;  but  it  is  gone  already. 

111. — To  Miss  Cockburn. 

IS.Clarges  Street,  Wednesday  Night, 

21st  March,  1832. 

My  dear  Jane — I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  have  again 
been  suffering,  although  it  is  with  great  pride  that  I  learn 
that  you  bear  the  restraints  and  inconveniences  of  your 
situation  with  your  usual  cheerful  magnanimity.  I  assure 
you  I  have  not  forgotten  your  kind  sympathy  with  me  in 
my  painful  experiences  of  last  autumn,  nor  the  sweet  con- 
solation it  afforded  me  in  a  period  of  great  gloom  and  de- 
pression. I  wish  I  could  make  any  adequate  return  to 


196  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

you  now.  But  you  know  the  affection  I  have  always  h:nl, 
and  always  shall  have,  for  you,  sick  or  well,  married  or 
unmarried,  young  or  old.  I  wish  I  had  any  thing  very 
lively  to  tell  you.  But  my  life  of  late  has  been  very 
nearly  as  uniform,  and  I  fancy  still  more  irksome  than 
yours.  Getting  up  (with  difficulty)  at  a  little  before  ten, 
I  usually  found  ten  or  fifteen  letters  to  read-;  and  before 
I  had  got  half  through  them,  was  obliged  to  run  down  to 
a  committee,  where  I  was  shut  up  till  after  four,  when  the 
House  met,  and  seldom  got  finally  home  till  after  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  One-half  of  the  time  I  managed 
to  pair  off  from  seven  till  nine,  when  I  got  some  dinner, 
and  lay  flat  on  the  sofa  for  an  hour  after  it.  But  this 
could  only  be  done  when  there  was  no  urgent  or  ticklish 
business;  and  when  it  could  not,  I  was  obliged  to  gobble 
down  one  tough  chop,  and  a  wineglass  full  of  water;  as 
meagre  a  meal  in  short  as  I  have  seen  waiting  by  the  side 
of  your  couch,  when  you  had  reasons  of  a  different  kind 
for  your  regime.  Charley  and  her  mother  have  the  com- 
fort of  a  more  leisurely  existence,  and  seem  to  spend  their 
time  very  tolerably,  in  driving  about,  and  walking  in  the 
parks,  and  visiting,  and  going  to  flower  gardens,  and 
shops,  and  exhibitions.  They  are  both  very  well,  and 
have  just  about  as  many  peeps  at  the  splendour  and 
vanity  of  a  gay  London  life,  as  to  excite  their  imagina- 
tions, without  corrupting  their  tastes,  or  wearying  them 
out.  They  know  a  good  many  people  now,  and  might 
know  a  great  number  more,  if  they  would  take  the  trouble. 
But  they  are  indolent,  I  think,  in  this  sort  of  cultivation, 
and  reserve  all  their  intimacy  and  affection  for  their  old 
cherished  and  tried  friends  in  Scotland — for  which  I  can- 
not much  blame  them. 

I  cannot  tell  you  what  longing  looks  I  turn  to  my  own 
dear  home ;  nor  with  what  sinkings  of  heart  I  contemplate 
the  chances  and  obstacles  that  still  stand  in  the  way  of 
our  return.  I  trust,  however,  that  we  shall  get  back 


TO    MISS   COCKEURN.  197 

about  midsummer,  or  at  all  events  in  July;  and  that  you 
and  I  may  sit  by  the  bath  at  Bonaly,  and  under  the 
shade  at  Craigcrook,  before  the  sweets  of  another  autumn 
pass  away.  The  weather  here  has  been  more  backward 
than  with  you,  though  within  these  few  days  it  has  mel- 
lowed into  spring  feeling.  There  are  young  lambs  skip- 
ping in  the  parks,  where  the  grass  is  as  green  as  emeralds, 
and  though  there  are  but  few  buds  on  .the  old  forest  trees, 
all  the  shrubs  are  alive,  and  the  almonds  begin  to  shew 
their  red  blossoms  in  the  gardens.  You  will  be  sorry  to 
hear  that  poor  old  Fergus*  is  so  ill  that  I  fear  he  will  die 
very  soon.  I  have  made  great  efforts  to  get  him  shipped 
off  to  Scotland,  where  he  wishes  much  to  go ;  but  the  qua- 
rantine regulations  are  so  absurdly  severe,  that  in  spite  of 
all  my  influence  at  the  privy  council,  I  have  not  been  able 
to  get  a  passage  for  him,  and  he  is  quite  unable  to  travel 
by  land.  He  has  a  brother  here  in  town,  and  our  Scotch 
maidens  are  all  very  kind  to  him.  He  has  decided  water 
in  the  chest,  and  SAvelling  in  all  his  limbs.  The  doctors 
say  he  may  die  any  day,  and  that  it  is  scarcely  possible 
he  can  recover. 

Tell  your  father  (that  will  give  you  consequence  in  his 
eyes)  that  our  Scotch  Reform  Bill  will  not  be  brought  on 
for  ten  days  or  a  fortnight  after  the  English  one  is  passed, 
and  probably  not  till  after  it  passes  the  second  reading  in 
the  lords ;  and  that  I  do  not  want  any  advice  about  the 
number  of  members  generally,  or  of  county  members  to  be 
allowed  to  Scotland,  but  that  I  shall  be  thankful  for  his 
opinion  on  the  other  points  I  mentioned  to  him  in  my 
letter  of  yesterday. 

We  have  been  dining  in  a  Scotch  family  way,  with 
Richardson,  at  Hampstead^  to-day ;  and  keeping  the  fast 
and  humiliation  over  an  excellent  dinner,  and  in  a  good 
flow  of  gay  and  hopeful  talk — which  I  think  the  most 
laudable  celebration. 

*  His  servant.     This  was  during  the  cnolera  alarm. 
17* 


198  LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

Cholera  is  far  worse-  here  than  at  Edinburgh,  but  it 
excites  very  little  sensation,  and  scarcely  any  alarm. 
Among  the  better  classes,  at  all  events,  its  ravages  are  not 
at  all  formidable,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  general  expecta- 
tion that  they  will  never  be  very  formidable. 

If  you  do  not  get  well  soon,  my  dear  Jane,  tell  your 
father  (and  your  mother,  too)  that  we  all  think  you  ought 
to  be  brought  up  here,  for  the  benefit  of  London  advice — 
•which,  with  all  our  nationality,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt, 
must  be,  and  is  better  than  any  that  can  be  had  elsewhere, 
both  from  the  great  profits  attracting  all  the  very  clever 
men,  and  from  the  far  greater  range  of  practice  and  ex- 
perience that  is  here  open  to  them.  If  they  will  trust  you 
with  us,  we  could  rig  you  out  with  a  nice  little  couch  in 
Charley's  room,  and  answer  for  kind  and  judicious  care  of 
you.  It  would  be  an  infinite  delight  to  us  all  to  see  you 
blooming  out  in  your  natural  health,  under  our  eyes  and 
heads. 

God  bless  and  keep  you  always,  my  kind  pure-hearted 
child. — Ever  very  affectionately. 

Write  me  a  line  when  it  is  quite  convenient,  if  it  be  not 
irksome  or  troublesome  to  you?  but  not  otherwise. 

112. — To  Mrs.  Rutherfurd,  Edinburgh. 

London,  13  Clarges  Street, 
1st  April,  1832. 

You  must  not  scold,  but  pity  me,  my  dear  Sophia.  You 
do  not  believe  that  I  am  in  any  danger  of  forgetting  you, 
or  (though  I  do  not  write  often  to  you)  that  I  am  indifferent 
about  being  remembered.  You  know  better  things,  and 
are  yourself  of  better  principles,  than  to  nourish  such 
unworthy  suspicions.  You  know  how  I  am  hurried  and 
worried,  and  how  little  time  I  have  to  do  any  thing  I  like. 
And  then  I  have  occasion  to  write  to  Cockburn  almost 
every  day,  arid  naturally  take  occasion  to  pour  out  all  my 
gossip  to  him,  of  which  I  take  it  for  granted  that  he  retails 


TO  MRS.  RUTHERFURD.  109 

as  much  as  there  is  any  demand  for  in  your  market.  I 
do  not  believe,  indeed,  that  the  details  of  an  insignificant 
existence  were  ever  so  fully  recorded.  If  they  had  only 
been  addressed  to  you,  they  might  have  come  nearer  the 
standard  of  Swift's  Journal  to  Stella.  But  being  noted 
down  for  the  satisfaction  of  a  matter-of-fact  male  creature, 
I  am  afraid  they  will  read  rather  like  the  precis  of  a  daily 
paper ;  though,  after  all,  it  is  the  want  of  any  good  con- 
temporary daily  paper  that  makes  Swift's  Journal  so  in- 
teresting. 

I  will  not  fatigue  you  with  politics, — the  said  daily 
papers  will  give  you  enough  of  that ;  and  there  is  not 
much,  I  fear,  in  my  private  life  which  it  would  amuse  you 
to  hear  of.  If  I  had  no  home,  and  no  dear  friends  at 
that  distant  home,  I  should  like  London  very  well.  Being 
naturally  social,  and  having  outlived  all  pretensions,  I  am 
amused  with  its  variety,  and  quite  out  of  the  reach  of  its 
mortifications.  I  find  a  great  number  of  people  who  are 
very  pleasing,  and  very  kind  to  me;  and  the  very  circum- 
stance that  it  is  not  my  home  they  inhabit,  reconciles  me  to 
their  constant  disappearance  in  th.e  rapid  whirl  of  that 
society.  Its  enormous  extent,  and  the  rapidity  of  its 
movement,  make  it  difficult  to  conceive  how  it  can  ever  be 
a  home  to  anybody.  Even  if  a  small  circle  attempt  to 
join  hands  and  keep  together  in  its  eddies,  they  are  soon 
drifted  asunder,  and  reduced  to  hail  each  other  from  the 
breakers  as  they  rush  past  in  their  opposite  courses.  The 
only  chance  is  for  one  pair  to  cling  close,  like  waltzers, 
and  whirl  lovingly  among  the  whirlers.  But  this  will 
scarcely  answer  for  a  lifetime. 

I  have  not  lately  seen  any  new  people,  and  have  been 
mostly  with  the  Hollands  and  my  neighbours,  the  Miss 
Berrys,  where  I  have  the  advantage  of  seeing  most  of  the 

Tory  leaders.     I  dined  there  the  other  day  with , 

who  passes  for  the  most  classical  beauty  of  the  day,  and 
who  is  a  very  good  sultana,  plump  Grecian,  and  imperious 


200  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFRBT. 

— finely  cast  features,  but  of  a  broad  and  massive  stamp, 
large  dark  eyes,  and  wavy  braids  of  dusky  shining  hair. 
I  did  not  sit  near  her,  and  was  obliged  to  go  away  early,  &c. 
We  went  out  yesterday  to  dine  with  Emily  Hibbert,  at 
Richmond,  where  I  saw  the  celebrated  beauty  of  the 
North  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  of  whom  I  heard  a  great  deal 
when  I  was  down  at  my  election  at  Melton  last  year.  She 

is  a ;  very  fair,  tall,  graceful,  and  prettily  stupid, 

with  gracious  manners  and  a  very  sweet  voice ;  and  yet  I 
did  not  think  her  charming.  Then  she  is  a  little  prosy  in 
her  talk ;  and  though  she  has  been  a  great  deal  abroad, 
and  is  of  very  ancient  blood,  certainly  has  not  a  very  dis- 
tinguished air.  But  what  do  you  care  about  her  ?  or  I 
either,  for  that  matter.  We  called  on  your  friend  Nancy 
Elphinstone,  who  was  as  natural,  emphatic,  and  fond  of 
you  as  ever.  We  have  promised  to  go  and  dine  with  her 
the  very  first  day  that  is  vacant,  &c. 

113.— To  Lord  Cockburn. 

Hastings,  25th  April,  1832. 

My  dear  C. — I  have  been  out  of  London  for  six  days, 
and  have  thought  nothing  of  politics  or  business  since  I 
turned  my  back  on  it,  till  your  letter  of  the  20th  was 
brought  to  me  this  morning,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  think 
or  say  any  thing  of  the  kind  yet.  God  forbid !  We  came 
to  Seven  Oaks  on  Friday,  and  walked  all  over  the  magni- 
ficent domains  of  Knowle  next  morning, — a  house  begun 
in  King  John's  time,  and  finished  in  Elizabeth's,  and  with 
finishing  and  furnishing  very  entire  of  both  eras.  In  the 
evening  we  came  to  Tunbridge  Wells,  where  we  staid  till 
yesterday,  in  the  loveliest  weather,  and  came  down  here 
yesterday  in  something  of  a  fog;  and  here  we  are  in  a 
new  hotel,  so  close  to  the  sea  that  you  may  spit  into  it 
from  the  windows,  which  is  a  great  convenience,  and  with 
boats  and  sloops  sleeping  about  in  the  bay,  or  hauled  up 
on  the  pebbles,  for  they  have  no  quay  or  harbour  of  any 


TO    LORD   COCKBURN.  201 

sort,  but  merely  pull  up  pretty  large  vessels  with  a  wind- 
lass and  leave  them,  heaving  and  scattered"  about,  like 
wrecked  things,  in  a  most  wild  and  disorderly  manner. 
People  live,  too,  all  night  in  these  grounded  hulks,  and 
the  lights  in  them  after  dark  have  a  curious  effect  from 
our  windows.  This  is  a  very  curious  and  picturesque 
town,  partly  very  old,  and  partly  very  new.  The  coast  is 
chiefly,  like  Dover,  a  range  of  bare  perpendicular  sand- 
stone rock,  at  least  200  feet  high,  generally  quite  close  to 
the  beach,  with  occasional  narrow  green  ravines  between. 
Into  one  of  the  largest  of  these  the  old  town  is  packed, 
and  spreads  its  wings  of  tall  narrow  houses  along  part  of 
the  cliffs  on  both  sides,  with  only  a  little  esplanade  between 
them  and  the  surf,  and  with  their  backs  within  50,  feet  of 
the  bare  overtopping  rock  behind.  The  new  buildings  are 
a  little  way  off,  where  the  cliffs  recede,  and  room  has  been 
made  in  many  places  by  cutting  them  back.  Very  gay 
showy  places  they  are — almost  as  fine  as  the  Regent's 
Park  Terraces  in  London,  and  stuck  up  on  terraces,  too, 
in  some  places.  The  buildings  stretch  near  half  a  mile, 
and  were  begun  within  these  seven  years.  There  are  bits 
of  a  good  old  Norman  castle  on  the  cliff,  and  magnificent 
downs,  marked  with  Roman  and  British  camps,  along  the 
heights,  with  the  greenest  grass,  and  the  whitest  sheep  to 
e"at  it,  that  you  ever  set  eyes  on ;  add  a  long  row  of  mar- 
tello  towers,  looking  massive  and  black  along  the  white 
sands  toward  Beachyhead,  and  you  have  an  exact  landscape 
of  the  channel.  We  return  to  Tunbridge  to-morrow,  and 
to  London  on  Friday,  though  only  to  pass  into  Hertford- 
shire for  a  few  more  days'  idleness.  I  have  been  walking 
and  climbing  all  day,  and  yet  feel  more  dyspeptical  than 
when  I  was  in  the  Dorset  committee  all  day,  and  in  the 
Honourable  House  all  night. 

Everybody,  I  hear,  is  out  of  town,  and  yet  I  gather  that 
the  Tories  are  exulting,  and  that  our  premature  exultatiop 
has  subsided. 


LIFE    OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

114. — To  Lord  Oockburn. 

London,  2d  August,  1832. 

My  dear  C. — Men  are  to  grow  profligate  and  irregular 
when  the  world  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and  so  I  find  it  is 
with  me.  These  dregs  of  the  session  go  against  one's 
stomach,  and  I  try  oftener  than  usual  to  make  them  pass 
from  me.  I  have  been  dining  out,  and  risking  countings 
out,  by  not  coming  back  till  late ;  and  to-day  I  am  tempted 
to  run  as  far  as  Ham  with  Burdett  and  George  Sinclair, 
in  spite  of  an  ominously  thin  house,  and  the  tail  of  the 
Irish  tithes  in  perspective.  I  hope  all  blunders  about 
schoolmasters,  and  clerks,  and  half-crowns,  are  now  settled, 
and  that  the  machinery  is  fairly  at  work,  grinding  claim- 
ants into  voters  with  due  facility  and  dispatch,  &c. 

For  Heaven's  sake,  let  no  friend  of  mine  pay,  or  lend 
for  an  hour,  any  part  of  the  half-crown  to  claimants  on 
my  interest.  Nothing  can  be  liker  bribery,  and  I  wish 
not  to  approach  within  measureless  distances  of  that 
honour,  &c. 

115. — To  Lord  Cockburn. 

London,  8th  August,  1832. 

For  my  comfort,  there  are  still  more  flaws  and  awkward- 
nesses in  the  English  act;  to  correct  one  of  which,  a  very 
awkward  attempt  was  made  last  night,  but  quite  unsuccess- 
fully. The  torpor  and  apathy  of  voters  to  register,  or  to 
make  the  qualifying  payments  of  votes  and  taxes,  is  alto- 
gether astounding  and  disgusting,  and  Heaven  knows  what 
the  result  will  be.  Here  in  London  I  do  not  believe  one- 
fourth  of  those  substantially  qualified  will  be  found  to  have 
come  forward,  and  in  the  counties,  I  believe,  there  will  be 
nearly  a  half  who  have  hung  back  out  of  mere  laziness. 
This  makes  me  a  little  anxious  about  Edinburgh  after  all. 
If  Blair  has  been  vigilant  in  getting  2000  registered,  may 


TO    MR.    EMPSON.  208 

he  not  run  one  of  ud  hard?  I  delight  in  Abercrombie's 
manly  good  sense  and  success,  but  I  must  lose  no  time  in 
coming  to  look  after  my  interest,  or  he  will  steal  all  the 
second  votes  I  had  reckoned  on  from  the  Tories  and  Radi- 
cals. I  lament  the  procession,*  but  of  course  cannot  re- 
pudiate. What  am  I  to  do  with  my 'females? 

116. — To  Mr.  Empson. 

Craigcrook,  26th  August,  1832. 

My  d6ar  E. — I  hope  you  take  it  as  a  sure  sign  of  my 
wretchedness  that  I  do  not  write  to  you.  Not  exactly 
wretchedness  at  being  away  from  you,  or  suffering  from 
this  Pontic  exile,  but  wretchedness  from  having  still  less 
leisure  to  do  any  thing  I  like  to  do  than  when  I  had 
glimpses  of  you  in  London.  I  have  had  such  heaps  of 
letters  to  answer,  such  crowds  of  committee  men  to  thank 
and  visit,  so  many  friends  to  dine  with,  and  for  the  last 
four  days,  such  meetings  and  speechifyings  to  electors, 
that  I  sometimes  begin  to  wish  for  the  leisure  of  Clarges 
Street  and  Westminster,  where  I  had  at  least  the  protec- 
tion of  insignificance  and  obscurity.  I  have  had  one  great 
meeting,  and  seven  moderate  ones,  and  I  am  to  have  fif- 
teen more,  that  is,  meetings  of  the  electors  in  each  ward 
of  the  city.  They  are  generally  held  in  churches,  and  ter- 
minate, with  great  propriety,  in  a  catechism.  I  delivered 
three  discourses  yesterday  with  good  approbation,  and  was 
thought  very  skilful  in  my  responses.  I  refused  to  pledge 
myself,  except  to  principles,  and  am  very  handsomely  sup- 
ported. We  have  near  7000  claims  entered,  of  which 
6000  are  good,  and  of  those  they  say  near  4000  will  be  for 
Abercrombie,  and  near  5000  for  me.  This  at  least  is  the 
estimate  of  my  committees,  and,  though  probably  a  little 
sanguine,  I  do  not  think  it  can  be  very  far  wrong.  I 

*  An  election  procession  into  Edinburgh  which  his  constituents  had 
arranged,  but  which  he  contrived  to  escape. 


204  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

shall  scarcely  get  through  my  fifteen  meetings  till  late  in 
next  week,  when  I  shall  fly,  I  think,  from  this  tiresome 
work,  to  my  Naiades  and  Oreades  at  Loch  Lomond,  whom 
it  is  a  great  pity  that  I  ever  quitted. 

In  the  mean  time,  and  attendant  mieux,  I  am  agreeably 
disappointed  in  this  here  Craigcrook.  It  is  much  less 
rough,  and  rugged,  and  nettley,  and  thistley,  than  I  ex- 
pected, and  really  has  an  air  that  I  should  not  be  ashamed 
to  expose  to  the  gentler  part  of  polished  friends  from  the 
south.  It  has  rained  a  little  every  day,  but  nothing  to  sig- 
nify, and  there  is  a  crystal  clearness  over  the  steep  shores 
of  the  Frith,  and  a  blue  skyishness  on  the  distant  moun- 
tains of  the  west,  that  almost  make  amends  for  your 
emerald  lawns  and  glorious  woods  of  Richmond  and  Roe- 
hampton.  Well,  and  so  good  night.  I  have  been  walking 
in  my  garden  and  offering  my  quiet  little  heathen  homage 
to  that-  serene  Jupiter,  to  whom  a  truly  devout  spirit  can- 
not help  paying  a  small  tribute  of  devotion  on  such  a  Sun- 
day night.  I  cannot  send  this  till  to-morrow,  so  you  lose 
nothing  by  my  going  to  bed. 

Tuesday  morning,  28th. — I  had  not  time  for  a  word  yes- 
terday ;  having  again  to  perform  service  in  three  chapels, 
two  in  the  morning,  and  one,  to  my  especial  annoyance, 
at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  all  Christian  people 
should  be  at  dinner;  and  now  I  am  going  to  a  church 
meeting,  and  so  good  bye  ! 

Five  o'clock. — I  preached  near  two  hours,  and  very  few 
people  were  asleep,  and  I  have  five  meetings  for  to-mor- 
row, all  in  holy  places.  How  is  it  possible  that  I  should 
write  gossip  to  you,  or  even  to  any  woman  alive ! 

Tell  me  about  your  own  little  —  -  en  Espagne — that 

shadowy,  mystical  vision  of  a that  hovered  like  a 

meteor  over  your  head,  and  filled  it  with  dreams  of  reform. 
Tell  me  too  of  Macaulay's  coarse  reality  of  Leeds,  and  that 
Sadler  is  not  likely  to  defeat  him  by  his  counterfeit  and 
dishonest  ultra-radical  story.  And  then,  gossip  though  it 


TO    LORD   COCKBURN.  205 

be,  tell  me  of  that  "bright  vision  of  the  guarded  mount," 
who  "  looks  toward  Nomancos  and  Bayona's  hold,"  &c. 

Tell  me,  moreover,  of  the  Spring  Rices,  and  in  which 
of  the  three  kingdoms  they  are  at  this  present  writing,  and 
whether  they  are  intending,  and  ever  incline  their  hearts 
hitherward.  Moreover,  of  Malthus,  and  Malthusia  junior 
and  senior,  what  tidings  ?  and  of  that  great  city  which 
was  London,  and  the  desolations  thereof;  and  Tommy 
Moore,  and  whether  he  is  to  be  of  Limerick ;  and  Samuel 
Rogers,  and  whether  he  is  yet  of  this  world. 

And  so  take  pity  on  me,  and  comfort  me  with  soft 
words. 

We  are  all  well,  did  I  tell  you  that  ?  and  that  the  Char- 
lottes are  enjoying  their  leisure  and  idleness  with  a  most 
malicious  intenseness,  from  its  contrast  with  my  great 
labours,  which  are  not  in  the  Lord,  though  mostly  in  his 
houses,  and  so  quid  plura  ?  I  am  chilly,  with  congealing 
sweat,  and  am  about  to  ride  forth  in  a  wet  east  wind,  which 
may  end  in  cholera ;  but  any  thing  would  be  a  relief. 
God  bless  you. — Ever  yours. 

117.—  To  Lord  Cockburn. 

London,  llth  April,  1833. 

You  think  me  a  very  desponding  politician ;  and  per- 
haps I  am.  But  I  am  far  nearer  right  than  the  sanguine, 
if  there  are  still  any  such.  I  venture,  therefore,  to  say 
again,  that  I  think  the  government  and  the  country  are 
in  the  greatest  possible  hazard  ;  that  there  is  great  ground 
to  think  that  the  Lords  will  not  pass  our  Irish  Church  Bill 
in  such  a  state  as  that  the  ministers  can  own  it.  And  then 
we  are  pledged,  and  without  pledge,  necessitated  to  resign ; 
though  what  is  to  come  after  us,  but  almost  instant  anarchy, 
no  man  can  conjecture. 

Independently  of  this,  the  pressure  of  the  movement 
upon  currency,  taxes,  English  Church  reform,  and  lots  of 

VOL.  II.— 18 


206  LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

other  things,  is  daily  drawing  off  the  dregs  of  our  popu- 
larity out  of  doors,  and  sending  men  off  in  the  House  in 
piques  and  pets  to  the  right  hand  and  to  the  left. 

The  result  of  this  Gloucester  election  shows  that  there 
is  a  setting  of  the  tide  in  wealthy  places  back  to  Toryism  ; 
and  though  nothing  can  be  so  absurd  and  malignant  as 
what  the  Times  has  been  writing  against  us  for  the  last  few 
days,  it  is  no  do'ubt  quite  true  that  our  hold  on  the  people 
is  growing  less  and  less.  The  absurdity  is  in  supposing 
that  it  depends  on  the  loill  of  the  ministry  whether  the 
things  they  want  done  shall  be  or  not.  They  abuse  us  for 
not  making  an  instant  radical  reform,  both  of  English  and 
Irish  Church,  &c. ;  and  yet  it  will,  coon  be  seen,  I  take  it, 
that  we  cannot  carry  even  a  slight  endowment  of  the  lat- 
ter, and  the  obstacle  to  our  carrying  that,  and  fifty  other 
things,  is  nothing  less  than  the  existence  of  the  King  and 
the  House  of  Lords. 

What  intense  apes  our  provincial  censors,  and  thorough, 
simple,  sweeping,  reformers  are  !  God  bless  you. 

118.— To  Lord  Cockburn. 

London,  16th  July,  1833. 

My  dear  C. — Not  much  more  to  tell  you,  &c.  I  break- 
fasted to-day  at  Rogers's  with  Macaulay  and  S.  Smith ; 
both  in  great  force  and  undaunted  spirits.  Mac.  is  a  mar- 
vellous person.  He  made  the  very  best  speech  that  has 
been  made  this  session  on  India,  a  few  nights  ago,  to  a 
House  of  less  than  fifty.  The  Speaker,  who  is  a  severe 
judge,  says  he  rather  thinks  it  the  best  speech  he  ever 
heard.  Our  attendance  was  growing  thinner ;  but  this 
crisis  has  brought  back  many,  and  I  have  no  doubt  we 
shall  have  450  in  the  House  on  Thursday,  without  a  call. 
The  weather  is  very  hot  and  beautiful  now.  I  wish  I  were 
lolling  on  one  of  my  high  shady  seats  at  Craigcrook,  list- 
ening to  the  soothing  wind  among  the  branches  !  And  yet 
it  is  shocking  to  think  how  much  all  that  scene  is  disen- 


TO    LORD    COCKBURN.  207 

chanted  by  its  vicinity  to  my  constituents.     The  fleshy 

presence  of  Mr. ,  Mr.  ,  and  Mr. ,  by  whom 

I  am  baited  daily,  helps,  I  doubt  not,  to  enliven  that  im- 
pression. Murray  gave  dinner  to  the  deputation  yester- 
day, but  ingeniously  contrived  not  to  come  among  them, 
but  left  them  to  be  entertained  by  William  and  Mary.  I 
fortunately  am  known  to  inhabit  a  house  in  which  there  are 
only  ten  spoons,  and  as  many  plates,  and  to  give  no  din- 
ners. I  see  no  reason  in  the  world  why  they  should  not 
settle  their  affairs  with  the  provost  and  the  creditors;  and 
ye-t,  I  now  think  that  they  will  not  settle.  The  other  party 
is  far  the  most  reasonable,  &c. 


My  dear  C. 


119. — To  Lord  Cockburn. 

Stanmore,  30th  July,  1833. 


"We  came  here  yesterday ;  a  most  lovely  evening ;  and 
I  felt  as  I  walked  on  the  airy  common,  under  the  brilliant 
moon,  and  the  orange  glow  of  twilight,  as  if  I  should  soon 
be  well  again.  But  I  had  but  a  feverish  night,  and  have 
been  full  of  qualms  and  sickings  most  part  of  to-day. 
However,  we  drove  over  to  Harrow,  and  saw  an  exhilara- 
ting spectacle  of  the  scholastic  youth  mustering,  like  swarm- 
ing bees,  for  the  holiday  up-breaking.  The  aristocratical 
air  of  it  put  my  humble  Scottish  recollections  rather  to  the 
blush.  There  were  sixty  or  seventy  carriages,  half  of  them 
with  coronets,  and  prancing  horses,  and  consequential 
grooms,  and  heaven  knows  what  besides.  But  the  gentle 
bearing  of  the  boys  themselves,  the  affectionate  leave- 
takings,  the  kind  words  to  the  old  dames,  the  respectful 
deference  to  the  smiling  simpering  masters,  were  all  as* 
much  above  our  ruder  state,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  as 
the  other  were  in  a  worldly.  And  then  the  galloping  of 
gigs,  and  the  shouting  from  crowded  barouches,  as  they 
swept,  with  their  light-hearted  cargoes  through  the  shady 


208  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

lawns,  was  beautiful  to  see  and  to  hear.  It  was  great  luck 
to  have  fallen  on  such  a  spectacle  in  an  accidental  drive, 
&c. 

120.— To  Lord  CocJcburn. 

London,  Fridaj  Night, 
23d  August,  1833. 

My  dear  C. — Our  bills  were  accepted  in  the  Commons 
this  afternoon,  with  the  Lords'  amendments,  such  as  they 
be,  on  their  heads,  and  now  only  wait  the  royal  assent  to 
be  law.  And  so  there  is  one  job  done,  and  an  end  to  self- 
election  in  Scotch  burghs  ! !  and  a  beginning  to  something 
else,  which  may  be  better  or  worse  as  it  pleases  God  ;  and 
so  I  may  go  and  divert  myself,  I  hope,  for  a  week  or  two  ; 
and  if  I  can  get  my  bills  paid,  and  my  trashy  papers 
packed  up,  I  shall-be  off  before  two  o'clock,  and  sleep  at 
Malshanger  to-morrow.  I  shall  stay  there  till  Sunday, 
and  then  proceed  to  see  a  god-daughter  I  have  near  Bath ; 
and  I  think  it  would  be  a  comfort  if  you  would  write,  on 
receipt  ef  this,  a  few  lines  to  the  post-office  there,  where  I 
shall  be  till  after  Wednesday.  I  then  cross  the  heart  of 
England  into  Yorkshire,  where  I  mean  to  visit  Morehead, 
and  probably  the  Cayleys,  and  may  finish  my  wanderings 
by  crossing  over  to  Brougham,  and  looking  in  on  the  Mar- 
shalls  at  Ulleswater,  and  Mrs.  Fletcher,  and  Wordsworth, 
at  Grasmere  and  Rydale.  But  this  picturesque  part  of 
my  plan  is  the  most  problematical.  If  it  is  left  out,  I 
have  promised  to  cross  from  Newcastle,  and  see  Richard- 
son near  Jedburgh.  Why  should  you  not  come  and"  join 
us  there  ?  where  we  might  have  a  quieter  and  more  tran- 
quil discussion  on  the  sum  of  things  than  in  the  too  jovial 
re-unions  of  Edinburgh.  But  I  shall  write  about  this  again 
when  I  know  more  of  my  own  mind  and  body. 

The  House  will  adjourn  to-morrow  till  Wednesday,  and 
the  prorogation  will  not  be  later  than  Thursday.  We  de- 
spatched all  our  work  to-day  before  three  o'clock,  and  then 
I  left  farewell  cards  at  the  ministers,  and  made  a  few  idle 


TO   LORD    COCKBURN.  209 

calls  on  ladies,  and  went,  at  six  o'clock,  to  a. quiet  dinner 
at  the  Hollands,  with  Rogers,  Lord  J.  Russell,  and  Miss 
Fox,  and  so  finished  my  London  campaign  with  a  bonne 
bouche  of  a  very  mild  and  agreeable  flavour.  Empson  has 
been  sitting  with  us  since,  and  altogether,  I  do  not  part 
from  those  things  without  a  certain  sadness.  I  shall  go  to 
bed,  and  tell  you  more  in  the  morning. 

Saturday  morning,  24th. — We  are  just  setting  forth,  and 
I  hear  no  more  news,  or  indeed,  any  thing  but  the  tinkling 
of  departing  sovereigns,  and  trampling  of  obsequious 
creditors.  It  is  rather  a  gloomy  day,  but  mild  and  calm, 
&c. 

And  so,  in  good  earnest,  ends  our  official  correspond- 
ence, which  has  not,  I  suspect,  had  a  true  official  character. 

121.— To  Lord  CocUurn. 

Malshanger,  26th  August,  1833. 

My  dear  C. — The  load  of  London  and  Parliament  is  at 
last  lifted  from  my  life,  and  I  have  had  two  days  of  natu- 
ral existence.  We  got  here  about  dark  on  Saturday.  I 
drank  too  much  coffee,  and  slept  ill ;  lounged  about  with 
Jane  all  yesterday,  hallowing  our  Sabbath  day  with  quiet- 
ness ;  and  to-day  I  have  driven  in  an  open  carriage,  and 
ridden  upon  a  pony  like  any  rustic  squire,  for  near  five 
hours  together  ;  and  have  been  to  see  Silchester,  the  largest 
and  loftiest  Roman  work  above  ground  in  Great  Britain. 
There  is  a  wall  of  more  than  a  mile  in  length,  and  varying 
from  twenty  to  seven  or  eight  feet  in  height,  all  overhung 
with  trees  and  ivy,  and  rough  with  masses  of  flint  and 
strange  lumps  of  rude  stone.  It  enclosed  either  a  Roman 
town  or  a  great  castrum  stativum ;  and  there  is  a  small 
amphitheatre  in  one  corner,  with  the  arena  still  quite  flat, 
but  the  sloping  sides  completely  grown  up  with  mud.  The 
whole  stands  upon  a  high  lonely  part  of  the  country,  with 
only  a  rude  low  church  and  a  single  farm-house  in  the 
neighbourhood,  but  commanding  a  most  lovely,  and  almost 

18*  O 


210  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

boundless  view  over  woody  plains  and  blue  skyey  ridges 
on  all  sides  of  it.  It  is  about  the  most  striking  thing  I 
ever  saw;.an'd  the  effect  of  that  grand  stretch  of  shaded 
wall,  with  all  its  antique  roughness  and  overhanging  wood, 
lighted  by  a  low  autumnal  sun,  and  the  sheep  and  cattle 
feeding  in  the  green  solitude  at  its  feet,  made  a  picture 
not  soon  to  be  forgotten,  &c. 

122.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

Killin,  2d  August,  1834. 

My  dear  E. — This  is  a  great  disappointment,  and,  after 
all,  why  were  you  so  faint-hearted  after  coming  so  far? 
Rain  !  Oh,  effeminate  cockney,  and  most  credulous  brother 
of  a  most  unwise  prognosticator  of  meteoric  changes. 
Though  it  rained  in  the  Beotia  of  Yorkshire,  must  it  rain 
also  in  the  Attica  of  Argyll  ?  Why,  there  has  not  been  a  drop 
of  rain  in  the  principality  of  Macallummore  for  these  ten 
days ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  such  azure  skies,  and  calm 
coerulean  waters,  such  love  and  laziness-inspiring  heats  by 
day,  and  such  starlight  rowings  and  walkings  through  fra- 
grant live  blossoms,  and  dewy  birch  woods  by  night ;  and 
then  such  glow-worms  twinkling  from  tufts  of  heath  and 
juniper,  such  naiads  sporting  on  the  white  quartz  pebbles, 
and  meeting  your  plunges  into  every  noonday  pool ;  and 
such  herrings  at  breakfast,  and  haggises  at  dinner,  and 
such  pale  pea-green  mountains,  and  a  genuine  Highland 
sacrament !  The  long  sermon  in  Gaelic,  preached  out  of 
tents  to  picturesque  multitudes  in  the  open  air,  grouped  on 
rocks  by  the  glittering  sea,  in  one  of  the  mountain  bays  of 
those  long  withdrawing  lochs  !  You  have  no  idea  what  you 
have  missed;  and  for  weather,  especially,  there  is  no 
memory  of  so  long  a  tract  of  calm,  dry,  hot  weather  at  this 
season ;  and  the  fragrance  of  the  mountain  hay,  and  the 
continual  tinkling  of  the  bright  waters  !  But  you  are  not 
worthy  even  of  the  ideas  of  these  things,  and  you  shall  have 
no  more  of  them,  but  go  unimproved  to  your  den  at  Hay- 


TO   MR.    EMPSON.  211 

leybury,  or  your  stye  at  the  Temple,  and  feed  upon  the 
vapour  of  your  dungeon. 

When  we  found  you  had  really  gone  back  from  your 
vow,  we  packed  up  for  Loch  Lomond  yesterday,  and  came 
on  here,  where  we  shall  stay  in  the  good  Breadalbane  coun- 
try till  Monday,  and  then  return  for  a  farewell  peep  at  our 
naiads,  on  our  way  to  Ayrshire,  and  thence  back  to  Craig- 
crook  about  the  18th.  (Write  always  to  Edinburgh.)  I 
sent  a  letter  to  Napier  for  you,  which  he  returned  two  days 
ago.  After  that  I  could  not  tell  where  to  address  you.  I 
left  instructions  at  the  Arrochar  post-office  for  the  forward- 
ing of  your  letters  to  Rice.  Only  two  newspapers  had 
come  for  you  when  we  came  away,  and  these  I  generously 
bestowed  in  my  last.  And  now  it  is  so  hot  that  I  cannot 
write  any  more,  but  must  go  and  cool  myself  in  the  grottos 
of  the  rocky  Dochart,  or  float  under  the  deep  shades  that 
overarch  the  calm  course  of  the  translucent  Lochy,  or  sit 
on  the  airy  summit  where  the  ruins  of  Finlarig  catch  the 
faint  fluttering  of  the  summer  breeze.  All  Greek  and  He- 
brew to  you,  only  more  melodious — Poor  wretch ! 

We  have  been  at  Finlarig  and  at  Auchmore ;  both  very 
beautiful,  but  the  heat  spoils  all,  as  I  fear  it  may  have  our 
salmon.  God  bless  us,  I  am  dyspeptic  and  lumbaginous, 
and  cannot  sleep,  and  I  lay  it  all  on  the  heat,  when  I  dare- 
say old  age  and  bad  regime  should  have  their  share,  &c. 

Why  should  not  you  and  Malthus  come  down  to  our  so- 
lemnity on  the  8th  September  ?  After  your  long  services, 
a  fortnight's  holiday  could  not  be  grudged,  especially  for 
the  purpose  of  making  you  better  teachers,  and  getting 
solutions  to  all  your  difficulties.  I  hope  Mrs.  Sommerville 
will  come.  I  had  a  glimpse  of  my  beautiful  Mrs.  Grant 
before  leaving  Edinburgh,  and  grudge  such  a  sultana  to 
India.  Write  to  me  soon.  My  Charlottes  send  their  love 
in  anger  to  you. — Ever  yours. 


212  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

123.— To  Mrs.  Craig. 

Edinburgh,  26th  December,  1834. 

If  I  had  no  other  motive  to  do  my  duty  in  a  superior 
way,  I  think  that  would  be  sufficient,  and  I  am  half  angry 
with  you  for  looking  back  upon  sentiments  which  I  would 
do  any  thing  to  justify,  and  cannot  but  wish  you  should 
cherish  as  pieces  of  youthful  folly,  to  be  laughed  at  and 
renounced  in  maturer  years.  0  no,  my  dear  child,  do  not 
repress  any  generous  enthusiasm  which  will  remain ;  and 
believe  that  the  best  part,  not  only  of  happiness  but  of 
wisdom,  must  be  built  upon  that  foundation. 

I  have  certainly  h'ad  rather  hard  work,  but  I  do  not  find 
it  irksome.  Even  the  early  rising,  which  I  dreaded  thg 
most,  proves  very  bearable.  Certainly,  in  the  whole  of 
my  past  life,  I  never  saw  so  many  sunrises  as  since  the  be- 
ginning of  November ;  and  they  have  been  inexpressibly 
beautiful.  We  have  holiday  now,  however,  for  a  week  or 
two,  and  I  sleep  over  the  glorious  dawning,  and  have  lei- 
sure to  dream  a  little,  and  to  read  my  beloved  poets,  and 
to  write  to  those  I  love. 

We  are  all  tolerably  well,  and  very  contented,  and  social, 
and  happy  (if  one  may  use  so  bad  a  word).  You  know  we 
have  not  much  spite  or  envy  among  us,  and  have  a  dispo- 
sition to  be  kind,  which  scarcely  ever  fails  to  make  life 
soft  and  easy;  and  then  that  old  undestructible  love  of 
.  nature,  and  sympathy  with  sunsets  and  moonshine,  which 
is  so  far  from  depending  on  youthful  enthusiasm,  that  it 
grows  with  years,  and  brightens  when  every  thing  wears 
dim.  We  shall  see  you  in  spring' — see  you  all.  I  think 
we  shall  be  up  early  in  April,  &c. 

124.— To  Mrs.  D.  Belden. 

Malshanger  (Hants),  29th  April,  1835. 

My  dear  Fanny — We  have  been  five  weeks  in  London, 
and  are  now  with  an  old  friend,  one  stage  on  our  way 


TO   MRS.  D.  BELDEN.  213 

home  to  Edinburgh  ;  and  Charlotte  being  lazy,  and  I  (for 
once)  in  -a  state  of  undeniable  idleness,  it  comes  to  me  to 
make  out  our  monthly  despatch.  Our  last  from  your  side 
is  from  Dr.  George  (of  16th  March),  written  on  his  return 
from  Charleston,  which  interested  and  amused  us  very 
much.  I  am  very  glad  to  find  his  general  patriotism  does 
not  extend  to  the  patronage  of  slavery,  and  that  he  likes 
the  cold  and  comforts  of  New  York  better  than  the  lan- 
guid and  imperfect  luxuries  of  the  South.  The  great  use 
(and  apology)  of  all  patriotism  is  to  make  us  pleased  with 
our  actual  lot,  and  anxious  really  to  improve  and  exalt  it. 
The  evil  is,  it  makes  us  abusive  and  unjust,  now  and  then, 
because  we  are  envious,  to  others.  We  are  all  growing 
better,  I  hope,  and  consequently,  more  alike  and  mor§  in- 
dulgent. For  my  part,  I  am  a  reasonable  cosmopolite, 
and  am  delighted  to  hear  of  the  happiness  of  all  in  Ame- 
rica, especially  of  one  family,  to  whom  I  owe  more  than 
any  other.  It  is  a  great  gratification  to  me  to  see  the 
unbroken  and  entire  cordiality  in  which  all  its  members 
continue  to  live,  and  no  small  pride  to  think  that  I  belong 
in  some  measure  to  the  party.  God  bless  you. 

London  has  answered  very  well.  Our  old  friends  have 
been  very  kind  to  us,  and  I  go  away  confirmed  in  my  pur- 
pose of  spending  a  little  time  there  every  spring.  Being 
there,  for  the  first  time  without  any  serious  task  or  occu- 
pation, I  entered  more  largely  into  society  than  it  was 
easy  for  me  to  do  before ;  and,  at  all  events,  crowded  into 
these  five  weeks  the  sociality  of  a  whole  long  session  of 
Parliament.  I  had  the  good  luck,  too,  to  come  at  a  very 
stirring  time,  and  to  witness  the  restoration  to  power  of 
the  party  to  which  I  was  attached  as  long  as  it  was  lawful 
for  me  to  belong  to-  a  party.  From  the  height  of  my 
judicial  serenity,  I  now  affect  to  look  down  on  those  fac- 
tious doings,  but  cannot,  I  fear,  get  rid  of  old  predilections. 
At  any  rate,  I  am  permitted  to  maintain  old  friendships, 
and  to  speak  with  the  openness  of  ancient  familiarities 


214  LIFB  OF    LORD  JEFFREY. 

with  those  I  most  love  to  meet  in  private.  As  you  know  but 
few  of  those  we  chiefly  lived  with,  it  would  be  of  no  use  to 
give  you  a  list  of  names,  though  it  would  include  almost  all 
who  are  much  worth  seeing  in  England.  Yet  we  go  back 
quite  contented  t&  our  provincial  duties  and  enjoyments. 
For  the  Charlottes,  I  should  use  a  stronger  word,  for  I 
think  they  were  rather  surfeited  with  the  stir  and  brilliancy 
of  London.  My  more  active  and  youthful  nature  stood 
the  excitement  better.  We  missed  dear  Malthus  much  in 
this  busy  scene,  &c. 

I  am  going  to  make  an  addition  to  Craigcrook,  and  am 
pulling  down  so  much  of \he  house  that  I  fear  we  shall  not 
be  able  to  inhabit  there  this  year,  so  that  we  shall  either 
go  again  on  our  travels,  or  try  to  find  a  house  for  three 
months  in  some  wild  corner  of  the  West  Highlands,  and 
live  a  solitary,  philosophical,  and  savage  life  there,  through 
the  autumn.  Just  on  leaving  the  tourbillons  of  London, 
this  scheme  seems  to  have  great  attraction.  But  it  may 
not  be  quite  easy  to  put  in  practice,  &c.  God  bless  you 
both. — Ever  affectionately  yours. 

125. — To  Lord  Cockburn. 

Skelmorlie,  28th  August,  1835.. 

My  dear  C. — A  thousand  thanks  for  your  letter.  When 
I  say  that  parties  are>  nearly  as  equally  balanced  out  of 
Parliament  as  in  it,  I  mean,  of  course,  that  I  believe  peo- 
ple would  go,  on  an  appeal  to  force,  or  any  other  decisive 
test  of  adhesion,  pretty  much  in  that  proportion,  not  cer- 
tainly from  pure  independent  individual  liking  or  judg- 
ment, but  under  the  probable  (or  certain)  operation  of  the 
ordinary  influences  of  wealth,  fear,  hate,  interest,  or  old 
habit  or  prejudice,  which  will  only  gain  strength  instead 
of  being  dissipated  by  such  a  crisis.  In  Scotland,  where 
there  is  more  intellectual  activity  and  far  more  conceit  of 
individual  wisdom,  the  proportion,  I  am  satisfied,  is  differ- 
ent. .But,  from  the  best  reports  I  can  get,  I  believe  a  de- 


TO   LORD   COCKBURN.  215 

cided  majority  of  the  peasantry  in  England  would  adhere 
to  the  Conservatives — not,  certainly,  from  any  conviction 
of  the  justice  of  the  cause,  or 'any  opinion  (which  they  are 
utterly  ^incompetent  to  form)  of  their  own  on  the  general 
interest,  but  from  habit  and  prejudice,  which  are  much 
better  elements  for  enthusiasm  and  noble  daring  than  the 
cooler  suggestions  of  reason  or  love  of  right.  Then, -if 
you  consider  that  the  most  efficient  and  only  terrible  part 
of  the  reforming  body  is  known  (by  friends  and  foes)  to  be 
hostile  to  monarchy,  church,  and  peerage,  and  no  very  safe 
advocates  for  property,  (at  least  large  property,)  law,  or 
the  arts,  it  is  difficult  to  suppose,  that  if  the  alternative 
actually  occurs,  whether  to  give  them  an  irresistible  pre- 
ponderance, or  to  seek  shelter  under  a  Conservative  banner, 
with  the  certainty  of  their*  granting  more  than  half  of  all 
the  reforms  which  the  wiser  part  of  their  present  oppo- 
nents require,  a  very  large  body  of  these  opponents  should 
not  go  over  to  them  and  carry  with  them  a  proportional 
part  of  their  own  followers  and  numerical  adherents.  But 
whether  this  be  so  or  not,  it  is  to  be  doubted  that  the  Con- 
servatives, if  it  once  came  to  fighting,  with  wealth,  disci- 
pline, the  crown,  the  army,  and  the  treasury  with  them, 
would  make  mince-meat  of  their  opponents  in  a  single 
year ;  exterminate  all  the  brave  rebels,  and  thoroughly 
terrify  the  feeble.  No  doubt  the  horror  of  such  an  execu- 
tion, for  I  do  not  believe  there  would  be  any  thing  like 
fighting,  would  excite  a  deadly  and  fatal  animosity,  and 
probably  drive  some  of  the  more  generous  allies  of  the 
crown  over  to  the  popular  side.  But  as  to  any  real  gain 
to  the  cause  of  liberty  or  national  prosperity,  even  from 
its  ultimate  success,  I  see  nothing  in  any  futurity  to  which 
I  can  look  forward,  but  the  very  reverse,  &c. 

I  have  been  delighting  myself  with  Mackintosh. f      I 
only  got  the  book  two  days  ago,  and  have  done  nothing 

*  The  Conservatives  he  means  f  His  Memoirs 


216  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFRKV. 

but  read  it  ever  since.  The  richness  of  his  mind  intoxi- 
cates me ;  afad  yet,  do  not  you  think  he  would  have  been 
a  happier  man,  and  quite  as  useful  and  respectable,  if  he 
had  not  fancied  it  a  duty  to  write  a  great  book  ?  And  is 
not  this  question  an  answer  to  your  exhortation  to  me  to 
write  a  little  one?  Perpend.  I  have  no  sense  of  duty  that 
way,  and  feel  that  the  only  sure  or  even  probable  result 
of  the  attempt  would  be  hours  and  days  of  anxiety  and 
unwholesome  toil,  and  a  closing  scene  of  mortification,  &c. 

126.— To  Dr.  Morehead. 

Skelmorlie,  Greenock,  30th  Sept.  1835. 

My  Dear  Doctor — I  have  been  shamefully  idle  since  I 
came  here,  and  have  done  none  of  the  fine  things  I  have 
expected  to  do.  Among  others  I  thought  to  have  made 
up  all  my  arrears  of  correspondence,  and  poured  myself 
out,  in  boundless  epanchments,  to  my  old  friends  especially. 
And,  behold,  I  have  not  written  three  letters  in  three 
months.  I  have  been  very  anxious,  however,  to  receive 
some,  and  I  assure  you  I  have  not  forgotten  my  old  friends, 
though  I  may  appear  to  have  neglected  them.  There  are 
few  I  have  thought  of  so  often  as  you.  This  neighbour- 
hood, and  this  autumn  leisure — the  first  I  have  had,  I  think, 
for  twenty  good  years,  bring  fresh  to  my  mind  the  many 
pleasant  rambles  we  used  to  have  together  when  we  were 
less  encumbered  with  cares,  and  more  vacant  from  all  ex- 
ternal impressions.  That  love  of  nature,  and  sympathy 
with  her  aspects,  which  was  the  main  source  of  my  delight 
then,  remains  more  unchanged,  I  believe,  than  any  thing 
else  about  me,  and  still  contributes  a  very  large  share  to 
my  daily  enjoyments.  I  have  been  reading  Homer,  too, 
with  as  dutiful  and  docile  devotion  as  we  used  to  do  in  the 
old  library  window  at  Herbertshire,  and  with  nearly  as 
fresh  a  relish.  I  bathe,  too,  in  the  sea ;  and  trudge  for 
six  or  seven  miles  at  a  stretch  through  mud  and  rain,  with 


TO    DR.    MOREHEAD. 

a  vigour  which  I  think  would  still  distance  poor  Dunter, 
if  he  were  alive  to  follow  us. 

Wellj  but  what  I  want  to  know  ahout  is,  my  dear  Loc- 
key.  I  cannot  tell  how  often  I  think  of  her,  nor  how 
much  her  heroic  cheerfulness  adds  to  the  tender  interest  I 
take  in  her  sufferings,  &c. 

We  have  seen  several  of  our  friends  at  this  old  castle. 
We  had  first  the  Rutherfurds  and  the  Cockburns ;  and 
then  Mrs.  Russell,  and  Thompson,  and  Pillans,  and  uncle 
John,  and  Jane  Hunter,  and  all  the  Browns  in  detach- 
ments, and  Miss  Lowden,  and  a  certain  Mr.  R.  Morehead  ; 
and  are  expecting  the  Fullertons,  and  a  detachment  of  the 
rich  Marshalls  of  your  county  of  York.  We  will  break  up 
our  encampment  soon  after  the  20th  of  October,  make  a 
stage  of  a  few  days  at  Langfine,  and  return  to  Edinburgh 
on  1st.  November.  My  Craigcrook  buildings  have  been 
roofed  in  for  some  time,  and  every  thing  finished  but  the 
plastering. 

You  will  see  from  the  newspaper  the  progress  of  O'Con- 
nel  through  our  peaceful  land.  But  you  will  not  read 
there  (at  least  I  hope  not)  that  I  dined  with  him  at  my 
neighbour  Kelly's*  a  few  days  ago.  After  I  accepted  the 
invitation,  which,  like  a  good  husband,  I  did  chiefly  to 
gratify  Charlotte's  curiosity,  I  had  certain  misgivings  as 
to  my  judicial  propriety,  and  a  fear  that  I  might  be  tucked 
up  in  his  tail  with  a  crowd  of  Glasgow  and  Greenock  radi- 
cals, and  terrible  toasts  and  speeches.  But  Wallace  Wight 
dealt  more  handsomely  by  me,  and  we  had  a  very  small 
and  strictly  private  party,  consisting  of  Sir  Thomas  Bris- 
bane, Sir  John  Maxwell,  and  ourselves,  and  not  a  word  of 
politics,  except  a  few,  (uttered  of  course  most  constitution- 
ally,) by  myself.  He  was  perfectly  tame  and  playful,  in- 
deed, in  his  Irish  robustious  way. 

I  try  to  avoid  thinking  of  politics ;  but  it  is  impossible 


*  Mr.  Wallace  of  Kelly. 
VOL.  II.— 19 


218  LIFB   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

to  be  insensible  to  the  perilous  movements  of  the  times. 
It  is  easy,  however,  to  abstain  from  prosing  about  them. 
My  wish  and  prayer  is,  that  every  thing  tending  to  actual 
violence  may  be  avoided ;  not  only  for  the  present  un- 
speakable evil,  but  because  the  certain  issue  of  all  such 
contests  is  the  hateful  tyranny  of  the  conquering  sword, 
under  whatever  banner  it  conquers.  I  think  too  that  the 
Tory  sword  would  be  the  heaviest,  and  its  conquests  con- 
sequently the  most  bloody.  But  those  things  are  not  to 
be  thought  of. 

How  is  my  good  patient  Mrs.  Finder  ?  and  when  did 
she  hear  of  her  high-minded  little  apostle  ?  How  is  George 
c.oming  on  in  his  new  vocation  ?  and  my  dear  Margaret,  with 
her  schools  and  philanthropy?  and  Jane,  David,  Lizzie, 
and  Phemy  ?  We  were  all  very  much  pleased  with  Robert 
•when  he  was  here.  He  is  thoughtful  and  ingenious,  and 
has  an  evident  ambition  for  intellectual  excellence.  We 
have  heard  nothing  of  your  brother  John  for  some  time ; 
but  according  to  our 'latest  accounts,  he  was  recovering 
steadily  from  his  alarming  attack,  and  again  going  about. 
We  have  had  beautiful  weather  till  within  the  last  ten 
days ;  but  those  have  been  one  incessant  tempest.  The 
autumnal  gales  were  never  known  so  tedious. 

How  do  you  come  on  with  your  parish?  and  are  the 
pies  or  the  prayers  uppermost  in  the  Sunday  thoughts  of 
your  flock?  Do  you  make  any  new  sermons,  or  indulge 
in  any  new  views?  .  Have  you  renounced  poesy,  as  old 
Beeffy*  used  to  call  it?  or  taken  to  any  other  path  of  lite- 
rary ambition?  Do  you  imbibe  any  zeal  for  farming,  or 
take  sufficient  exercise  in  the  open  air?  Poor  old  Dr. 
Gardner  !f  He  had  all  the  amiableness  of  a  child,  and  I 
trust  much  of  the  happiness  of  one ;  so  that  he  will  need 
little  changing  to  fit  him  for  heaven. 

*  Dalzell,  Professor  of  Greek  in  Edinburgh. 
(•  An  Episcopal  clergyman  in  Edinburgh. 


TO    MR.    SPALDINQ.  219 

God  bless  you  all,  -with  kindest  remembrances. — Ever 
affectionately  yours. 

127.— To  Lord  Cockburn. 

24  Moray  Place,  5th  January,  1836. 

My  dear  C. — Our  good  old  chief*  has  promised  to  dine 
here  on  Thursday,  at  half-past  five  exactly;  and  I  am 
sure  it  would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  him  to  meet  you  and 
Richardson  at  that  time.  Richardson  can  have  no  other 
engagement ;  and  if  you  have  any,  you  ought  to  break  it — 
the  request  of  a  guest  of  his  age  being  as  much  entitled 
to  be  treated  as  a  command  as  that  of  a  royal  person. 
Besides,  he  is  to  discourse  De  Senectute,  which  both  you 
and  I  should  begin  to  think  an  interesting  subject. — Ever 
yours. 

128. — -To  William  Spalding^  JZsq.,  Advocate. 
(Now  Professor  of  Logic  and  Bhetoric,  St.  Andrews.) 

24  Moray  Place,  23d  May,  1836. 

Dear  Sir — I  am  afraid  I  must  have  appeared  very  im- 
polite, in  not  having  previously  answered  your  obliging  and 
interesting  letter  of  the  llth.  But  you  are  aware  that  it 
came  at  the  very  commencement  of  my  busy  time ;  and 
will  easily  understand  that  I  should  have  been  desirous, 
both  of  seeing  Professor  Moir,  and  of  looking  into  your 
little  publication,  before  sending  you  an  answer. 

I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  see  Mr.  Moir ;  but  I  have 
run  through  your  book,  with  very  great  satisfaction. 
Without  professing  to  be  a  convert  to  all  your  opinions,  I 
can  safely  say  that  I  have  been  very  much  struck  with 
the  spirit  and  originality  of  the  whole  performance;  and 

*  The  Right  Hon.  William  Adam,  head  or  Chief  Commissioner,  as  he 
•was  called,  of  our  Jury  Court. 

f  Mr.  Spalding,  then  a  candidate  for  the  Logic  chair  in  Edinburgh, 
had  sent  Lord  Jeffrey  a  copy  of  his  able  and  interesting  "Letter  on 
Miikspeare's  authorship  of  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen." 


220  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

greatly  delighted,  both  with  your  feeling  and  eloquent  ex- 
position of  the  merits  of  our  great  dramatist,  and  the  acute 
and  discriminating  analysis  you  have  often  so  happily  made 
of  his  means  of  pleasing.  If  I  am  not  always  satisfied  with 
your  logic,  your  rhetoric  almost  invariably  excites  my  ad- 
miration ;  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  am  gratified 
by  finding  another  of  the  younger  brethren  of  our  profes- 
sion so  fairly  in  the  way  of  illustrating  it  by  his  literary 
distinction.  With  your  permission,  I  shall  request  my 
friend  Mr.  Moir*  to  give  me  the  pleasure  of  an  introduction 
to  your  personal  acquaintance;  when  I  hope  we  shall  have 
some  pleasing  talk  about  Shakspeare  and  his  contempora- 
ries. You  will  find  me,  I  think,  nearly  as  great  an  idola- 
tor  of  his  genius  as  yourself;  but  rather  an  unbeliever  in 
the  possibility  of  detecting  his  compositions  by  internal 
evidence,  y  I  am  inclined,  too,  to  rank  Fletcher  consider- 
ably higher  than  you  seem  to  do;  and  think  the  scene 
between  the  captive  knights  in  the  second  act,  which  you 
admit  to  be  all  his,  by  far  the  finest  in  the  whole  play.  I 
think  you  are  quite  right,  however,  in  placing  Shakspeare 
immeasurably  above  him,  in  intellectual  vigour  especially, 
even  more  than  in  high  passion  or  burning  fancy.  The 
great  want  of  Fletcher  is  want  of  common  sense;  the  most 
miraculous  gift  of  Shakspeare,  his  deep,  sound,  practical, 
universal  knowledge  of  human  nature,  in  all  ranks,  condi- 
tions, and  fortunes.  Yet  in  their  merely  pleasing  and 
poetical  passages,  and  in  respect  to  their  taste  in  composi- 
tion, I  think  they  are  astonishingly  alike,  and  very  much 
on  a  level.  I  do  not  see  why  Fletcher  might  not  have 
•written  all  the  serious  parts  of  the  Winter's  Tale ;  the  first 
scenes  of  the  king's  jealousy  especially,  and  those  of  the 
sheep-shearing  festival,  beautiful  as  they  are ;  and  I  am 
sure,  if  you  should  make  this  the  thesis  of  another  critical 
epistle,  you  could  make  out  quite  as  good  a  case  for  it  as 

*  George  Moir,  Esq.,  Advocate. 


TO   ME.    RUTHERFURD.  221 

you  have  done  for  that  of  your  actual  election.  Autolycus, 
I  admit,  is  above  his  pitch;  because  he  has  too  much  sense 
and  shrewdness.  Shakspeare  has  the  higher  tragic  pas- 
sions in  far  more  perfection ;  but,  in  pity,  and  mere  ten- 
derne"ss,  I  venture  to  think  Fletcher  quite  his  equal.  Do 
but  look  to  some  passages  of  the  Page  in  Philaster,  some 
of  Aspatia  in  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  and,  above  all,  to  the 
death  of  that  noble  boy  in  Bonduca,  which  I  have  always 
thought,  or  rather  felt,  to  be  the  most  pathetic  passage  in 
English  poetry.  I  must  not  indulge,  however,  any  farther 
in  this  vein ;  though  it  may  satisfy  you  that  I  take  a  hearty 
interest  in  the  subject  you  have  chosen  for  your  debtit. 

I  ought  not  to  conclude  without  saying  a  word  on  your 
pretensions  to  the  chair  of  Logic.  In  due  time  I  have  no 
doubt  that  you  will  establish  a  just  title  to  an  academical 
preferment,  if  this  should  continue  to  be  an  object  of  am- 
bition with  you.  But  at  present,  and  particularly  with 
regard  to  the  place  which  is  now  vacant,  I  am  bound  to 
say,  that  the  more  mature  age  and  singular  attainments 
of  Sir  William  Hamilton  would  determine  me,  if  I  had  any 
influence,  to  give  him  the  preference.  In  the  mean  time, 
I  think  you  have  been  well  advised  in  bringing  forward 
your  pretensions ;  as  a  fair  and  honourable  means  of  attract- 
ing notice  to  your  pursuits  and  qualifications,  and  thus 
entering  your  name  on  the  "  valued  file,"  from  which  lite- 
rature will  hereafter  select  her  champions  and  advocates. 

For  my  own  part,  I  cannot  but  rejoice  that  you  have 
taken  a  step  which  has  procured  me  the  pleasure  of  this 
correspondence. — Believe  me  always,  &c. 

129.— To  Andrew  Rutherfurd,  Esq. 

Castle  Toward,  1st  August,  1836. 

My  dear  R. — We  came  on  here  from  Loch  Lomond, 
by  Cairndow  arid  Strachur,  on  Friday,  and  we  cross  to- 
morrow, if  the  stormy  firth  should  be  at  all  passable,  to 
Largs,  where  we  propose  to  linger,  and  treasure  up  re- 

19* 


222  LIFE    OF    LORP    JEFFREY. 

membrances  of  Skelmorlie  for  the  rest  of  the  week,  and 
then  proceed  to  Langfine,  and  be  back  at  Craigcrook 
somewhere  about  the  18th.  We  have  had  mostly  tem- 
pestuous weather,  though  with  some  heavenly  glimpses, 
and  are  very  comfortable  here ;  Kirkman*  having  had  the 
good  taste  not  to  ask  any  Glasgow  beaux  esprits,  or  rus- 
tic neighbours,  to  meet  us,  and  being  himself  very  socia- 
ble, sensible,  and  good-humoured,  and  having  one  fair 
daughter,  with  true  dove's  eyes,  a  soft  voice,  and  an  an- 
gelic expression.  Then,  being  in  a  mood  of  drinking  no 
wine,  our  repasts  are  far  more  temperate  than  I  could 
ever  make  them  with  that  old  man  of  the  lake,  and  my 
heart,  which  had  begun  to  flutter,  being  restored  to  com- 
parative tranquillity.  I  have  been  delightfully  idle  all 
along,  having  read  to  the  extent  of  near  five  pages  in 
Hallam,  and  not  much  more  in  Shelley.  I  am  sorry  to 
hear  so  poor  an  account  of  Mrs.  Pillans,  on  Thomas's  ac- 
count chiefly,  and  am  glad  you  enjoy  Midfield,  and  have 
some  leisure  to  enjoy  it.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  bought 
Clermiston  for  something  less  than  .£16,000?  and  that  I 
want  you  to  take  a  lease  of  the  house  for  the  term  of  my 
life,  and  we  shall  run  a  tunnel  through  to  Craigcrook, 
and  glide  unseen  from  hill  to  bower,  like  angels  on  a  sun- 
beam. Now  that  is  a  thing  to  be  thought  of,  or,  at  all 
events,  to  be  talked  about,  if  better  may  not  be.  I  never 
thought  of  the  thing  till  the  day  before  I  left  home.  Mr. 
Thomson  of  the  Royal  Bank  told  me  it  would  be  a  good 
purchase,  and  I  gave  him  power  to  conclude  it  for  .£16,000, 
and,  on  my  arrival  here,  I  found  it  was  concluded.  I  hope 
I  shall  resist  the  temptation  of  ruining  myself  with  im- 
provements. 

I  try  to  think  little  of  politics,  but  the  closing  scene  of 
this  session  is  nervous,  and  agitates  me  a  little  in  spite  of 
myself.  I  think  it  has  been  a  very  important  and  inter- 

*  Kirkman  Finlay,  Esq.,  of  Castle  Toward. 


TO   MR.    RICHARDSON.  223 

esting  session,  for,  though  not  much  has  been  done,  a 
great  deal  has  been  resisted;  and  the  waters  have  ap- 
peared to  stagnate,  only  because  they  are  accumulating 
for  a  greater  outbreak.  But  we  shall  soon  see  now,  &c.  - 

This  is  a  fine  place ;  a  superb  sea  view,  vast  plantations, 
and  an  admirable  house.  The  whole  drive  from  Strachur 
beautiful.  I  escaped  with  my  life  from  the  church  at  Ar- 
rochar,  though  the  walls  were  as  black  as  mud  with  trick- 
ling water,  and  the  floor  soaking.  There  was  a  deputation 
of  five  persons  to  Inversnaid,  where  200  Highlanders 
turned  out  in  the  rugged  glen,  and  listened,  for  two 
hours,  to  a  Gaelic  sermon,  under  a  heavy  rain,  and  stand- 
ing up  to  the  skirts  of  their  kilts  in  wet  heather — and  yet 
nobody  died.  I  was  not  there — or  else  there  must  have 
been  at  least  one.  The  new  Edinburgh  has  just  come 
here,  and  1  have  been  reading  part  of  a  nice  article  on 
German  literature,  by  George  Moir. 

130. — To  John  Richardson,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  28th  November,  1836. 

My  dear  Richardson — The  melancholy  announcement* 
of  your  letter  did  not  come  unexpected  ;  but  still  it  was  a 
great  shock.  Your  are  quite  right  in  thinking  that  she 
waa  very  dear  to  us  all.  I  do  not  believe  a  spirit  ever  re- 
turned to  its  Maker  more  free  of  speck  or  corruption,  or  a 
more  affectionate  heart  ever  rested  in  death. 

This  is  in  one  sense  a  consolation,  and  the  best  consola- 
tion, but  at  the  moment  it  aggravates  the  privation.  God 
bless  you  and  comfort  you.  What  more  can  I  say  ?  Dear 
Hopey  must  not  marry  for  a  while  yet. 

With  best  love  to  her  from  us  all. — Ever  affectionate. 

*  Of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Richardson. 


224  LIFE   OF   LDRD  JEFFREY. 

131.—  To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  15th. 

•Macaulay  seems  to  have  got  charmingly  through  his 
estimates.  It  is  in  things  like  these — the  whole  business 
of  governments  in  quiet  times — that  the  government  is 
strong.  It  is  weak  because  there  have  been  great  con- 
stitutional, almost  organic  changes ;  and  affected,  not 
through  overwhelming  and  paralyzing  force,  but  by  con- 
flict of  opinions — in  which  there  is  now  partly  a  revulsion, 
partly  a  revival,  and  chiefly  a  gradual  and  growing  split- 
ting and  hiving  off  of  sections  and  shades,  which  were 
blended  at  first  as  against  a  common  enemy.  Do  not  you 
see  that  this  is  the  course  of  all  weak  governments ;  first 
the  destruction  of  old  unquestioned  authority  by  just  and 
successful  resistance  ;  and  then  the  divisions  which  neces- 
sarily ensue  among  the  different  parties  into  which  the 
conquerors  naturally  array  themselves — each  in  a  great 
degree  ignorant  of  its  own  actual  following  in  the  body, 
and  usually  overrating  it.  So  it  has  ever  been,  since  the 
feuds  among  the  successors  of  Alexander  or  Charlemagne, 
down  to  those  among  the  conquerors  of  Louis  Seize — or 
the  earlier  dissensions  among  the  survivors  of  our  majestic 
Cromwell.  The  former  had  room  and  verge  enough  to 
betake  themselves  to  separate  regions.  In  our  narrower 
confines  we  had  to  fight  it  out  at  home — and  in  many  a 
doubtful  conflict — till  main  force  and  fear  brought  about 
a  strong  government  again  ;  and  stupidity  and  want  of  in- 
terest and  intellect  restored  for  about  eighty  years  the  old 
'habit  of  submission  to  authority.  We  are  out  of  that  now 
over  all  free  Europe,  and  are  once  more  in  the  sphere  of 
weak  governments, — that  is,  weak  for  carrying  or  resist- 
ing any  speculative  or  theoretical  changes,  or  for  repress- 
ing the  vexatious  cross  play  of  intractable  sects  and 
cliques ;  but  strong  for  maintaining  clear  rights  and  de- 
molishing established  abuses ; — governments  which  must 


TO    MR.   RUTHERFURD.  225 

be  creditably  administered  and  always  growing  better, 
and  under  which  all  who  are  not  too  impatient  or  crazily 
in  love  with  their  own  nostrums,  may  live  in  peace  and 
hope.  You  understand  ? 

132. — To  Andreiv  Rutherfurd,  Esq.,  (then  in  London.] 

Edinburgh,  17th  April,  1837. 

My  dear  R. — Now  you  are  in  the  middle  of  it !  and  a 
pretty  stirring  centre  it  is.  I  envy  you  a  little,  but  con- 
sole myself  with  thinking  that  I  am  more  tranquil,  and  a 
little  more  secure  where  I  am.  Whatever  happens,  how- 
ever, you  will  be  amused,  and  interested,  and  instructed, 
more  than  if  you  had  stayed  at  home,  and  if  you  should 
come  back  "  odious  in  woollen,"  before  the  middle  of  May, 
I  am  sure  you  will  be  all  the  better,  and  the  happier,  and 
the  fitter  for  future  service,  for  this  escapade.  Indeed,  I 
am  not  sure  that  it  will  not  be  better  for  you  to  have  thus 
made  your  deb-tit  without  incurring  any  responsibility — to 
have  gone  through  a  sort  of  rehearse*!,  at  the  great  House, 
and,  along  with  the  great  actors,  without  the  agitation  of 
an  actual  compearance  before  a  difficult  audience. 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  which  is  the  only  intelligible 
thing  I  have  seen  on  the  actual  state  of  affairs ;  but  I  am 
not  so  unreasonable  as  to  expect  you  to  write  often.  Your 
time  is  much  better  employed,  and  I  am  a  patient  waitei 
upon  Providence ;  yet  I  should  like  to  have  some  of  your 
first  impressions  of  men  you  have  not  seen  particularly 
before,  and  of  the  tone  of  any  new  society,  but  only  at 
your  leisure. 

I  know  you  will  be  generous  enough  not  to  abuse  me  to 
Theresa.  You  should  let  her  take  you  some  night  to  the 
Berrys.  I  want  you  to  see  their  circle ;  and  also  to  like 
her.  She  is  not  only  a  knowing  and  clever  woman,  but 
really  a  kind  and  affectionate.  Ask  Theresa.  I  hope 
you  will  breakfast  with  Rogers,  too.  I  know  you  will  go 
to  old  Wishaw.  Tell  me,  too,  about  the  Lord  Advocate, 


226  LIFK    OF    I«ORD   JEFFREY. 

and  of  the  condition  you  find  him  in.  Glenlee,  I  under- 
stand, is  pretty  well  recovered  again,  and  has  begun  to 
read  his  papers  for  advising ;  but  it  is  rather  thought  he 
cannot  do  long — something  organically  wrong  about  the 
stomach ;  but  long  and  short  are  but  comparative.  Poor 
Keay*  has  come  back  from  Glasgow,  another  victim  to  that 

abominable  court-house,  or  to 's  prolixity,  it  is  not 

clear  which,  &c. 

We  are  all  tolerably  well ;  exercising  a  frugal  and  tem- 
perate hospitality  at  Craigcrook — reading  idle  books,  and 
blaspheming  the  weather.  We  have  had  Jane  Grant  ten 

days  with  us,  and  the half  as  long.  Yesterday  we 

had and  Lady .  They  parted  coldly,  though 

he  goes  to  Aberdeen  to-day  ;  and  I  think  there  has  been  a 
rupture ;  so  you  may  find  her  bosom's  throne  vacant  for 
you  when  you  come  back.  Cockburn  is  still  in  the  Cockno 
burn,  with  the  Dean,  at  Glasgow.  Fullerton  has  returned, 
well  and  sociable ;  he  dines  with  us  to-morrow,  &c. 

Among  other  things,  I  wish  yon  could  get  some  better 
arrangements  for  these  remits  upon  Estate  Billsf  to  our 
learned  body.  Why  should  the  remit  be  to  the  Lord  Or- 
dinary officiating  on  the  bills  ? 

133. — To  John  Cay,  Esq.,  Sheriff  of  Linlithgow  shire. 

24  Moray  Place,  14th  August,  1837. 

My  dear  Mr.  Cay — I  thank  you  very  sincerely,  for  your 
kindness  in  sending  me  a  copy  of  your  valuable  publica- 
tion.;}; But  you  really  make  me  feel  ashamed  by  the  way 
in  which  you  speak  of  my  exertions  in  preparing  the  mo- 
mentous act  which  is  the  subject  of  your  commentary,  or 
of  my  reception  of  your  many  most  obliging  and  judicious 
suggestions. 

*  James  Keay,  advocate,  who  had  gone  to  Glasgow  on  an  important 
civil  trial,  and  was  taken  ill. 

f  From  the  House  of  Lords. 

|  A  volume  containing  the  Decisions  of  the  Sheriffs  in  the  Registration 
Courts. 


TO    MRS.    IXNES.  227 

That  I  was  conscientiously  anxious  to  embody  in  clear 
expression  the  provisions  on  which  the  government  had 
agreed,  and  in  so  far  as  possible  to  exclude  cavil  and 
evasion,  I  of  course  expected  you  to  allow ;  but  when  I 
look  to  the  multitude  of  perplexing  questions  which  have 
notwithstanding  arisen,  and  the  many  inconveniences  which 
have  resulted  from  what  I  now  see  clearly  to  have  been 
omissions  in  the  framing  of  that  statute,  I  can  truly  say 
that  I  feel  any  thing  but  self-satisfaction  in  the  recollection 
of  that  task. 

As  to  my  intercourse  with  you,  I  should  be  ungrateful 
if  I  did  not  say  at  once  that  the  obligation  was  entirely  on 
my  part,  and  that  there  was  no  individual  whatever  to 
whose-  sound  judgment  and  sagacity  I  was  so  much  indebted 
in  the  course  of  that  work  of  preparation.  It  is  very 
pleasing  to  me,  however,  to  find  that  you  were  satisfied 
with  the  manner  in  which  I  received  your  suggestions,  and 
that  the  communication  we  then  had  has  had  the  effect  on 
your  part  (as  it  has  on  mine)  of  increasing,  rather  than 
diminishing,  the  feeling  of  confidence  and  friendship  with 
which,  as  brethren  of  our  profession,  we  were  previously 
disposed  to  regard  each  other. — Believe  me  always,  &c. 

134.— To  Mrs.  0.  Innes. 

Brodick,  Arran,  29th  August,  1837. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Innes — Charley  says  I  am  the  idlest 
member  of  the  family,  and  ought  therefore  to  answer  your 
letter  to  her ;  and  as  I  am  sure  its  kindness  deserves  an 
answer,  I  accept  the  office,  and  hope  for  indulgence  as  her 
substitute.  But  I  have  no  news  to  tell  you.  In  this  for- 
tunate island  we  know  nothing  of  the  wicked  doings  of  the 
busy  world  which  you  still  inhabit ;  and,  except  through  a 
stale  newspaper,  hear  nothing  of  what  is  agitating  the 
mainland  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  In  fine  weathei 
I  take  very  kindly  to  this  innocent  and  primitive  state  of 
ignorance  of  good  and  evil,  and  reason  and  muse  by  the 


228  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

quiet  waters  and  lonely  valleys,  in  a  very  voluptuous  and 
exemplary  way.  But  in  a  rainy  day  like  this,  I  feel  my 
poetical  soul  subside,  and  cannot  resist  a  recurrence  to  in- 
terests which  ought  not  to  be  so  powerful  with  a  grave 
judge  or  contemplative  philosopher.  I  must  even  confess 
that  at  such  times  those  dignified  characters  lose  a  little 
of  their  majesty  in  my  eyes,  and  that  I  feel  as  if  it  were 
something  womanish  to  sit  safe  and  idle  here  in  a  corner, 
when  all  who  have  men's  hearts  in  their  bosoms  are  up  and 
doing.  It  mortifies  me  a  little  to  find  that  there  is  a  closer 
alliance  between  gowns  and  petticoats  than  I  had  imagined, 
and  then  I  think  that  the  curiosity  with  which  I  am  de- 
voured in  these  woods  is  another  feminine  trait  which  does 
me  no  honour. 

Well,  but  you  want  to  hear  how  we  like  Arran,  and 
what  sort  of  life  we  lead  here.  On  the  whole,  it  has  been 
very  pleasant.  Delicious  weather,  grand  mountain  views, 
wild  rocky  valleys,  the  brightest  of  bright  waters — both 
fresh  and  salt;  and  here  at  Brodick  a  graceful  crescent- 
shaped  bay  of  a  mile  over,  with  the  old  castle  peering  over 
its  woods  at  one  point,  and  a  noble  black  cliff  at  the  other  ; 
and  then,  beyond  the  bright  gravel  of  the  beach,  a  sweet 
deep-green  valley,  glittering  with  streams,  and  tufted  all 
over  with  groups  of  waving  ash  trees,  winding  away  for 
two  miles  or  more  among  the  roots  of  the  mountains,  some 
of  which  soar  up  in  bare  peaks  of  gray  granite,  and  others 
show  their  detached  sides  and  ends — all  seamed  with  dark 
gullies  stetching  down  from  their  notched  and  jagged 
summits.  There  is  a  description  for  you,  and  quite  true 
notwithstanding.  And  we  have  attended  two  preachings 
in  the  open  air,  (worth  ten,  of  your  idolatrous  masses,)  and 
heard  the  voice  of  psalms  Vise  softly  in  the  calm  air  from 
a  scattery  group  of  plaided  and  snooded  worshippers,  and 
go  echoing  up  among  the  hills,  and  down  to  the  answer- 
ing murmurs  of  the  shore  ;  and  I  have  subscribed  X10  to 
build  a  new  church  on  the  beautiful  spot  where  this  con- 


TO    MRS.    INXES.  220 

gregation  met  under  the  canopy  of  Heaven.  As  for  our 
hostel,  the  people  are  simple  and  obliging,  and  we  have 
nice  whitings,  and  occasional  salmon,  and  tough  fowls,  and 
good  whisky,  and  bad  wine.  But  the  worst  is  that  a  fat 
woman  had  engaged  the  best  rooms  before  we  came,  and 
one  of  the  supreme  judges  of  the  land  has  actually  been 
condemned  to  sleep,  with  his  lawful  wife,  for  the  last  ten 
days,  in  a  little  sultry  garret,  where  it  is  impossible  to 
stand  upright,  except  in  the  centre,  or  to  point  your  toes 
up- when  you  lie  down,  for  the  low  slanting  roof,  which 
comes  crushing  down  on  them.  But  we  are  not  difficult, 
or  prideful  you  know,  and  have  really  suffered  no  serious 
discomfort.  To  me,  indeed,  the  homeliness  of  the  whole 
scene  brings  back  recollections  of  a  touching  and  endear- 
ing sort ;  and  when  I  lay  down  the  first  night,  and  saw 
the  moon  shining  in  through  the  little  uncurtained  sliding 
windows  in  the  roof,  on  the  sort  of  horse  rug  on  the  floor, 
and  the  naked  white  walls,  and  two  straw  chairs,  it  brought 
so  freshly  to  my  mind  the  many  similar  apartments  I  had 
occupied  with  delight  in  the  lonely  wanderings  of  my  school 
and  college  days,  that  I  felt  all  my  young  enthusiasm 
revive,  and  forgot  judgeship  and  politics,  and  gave  myself 
up  to  my  long  cherished  dreams  of  poetry  and  love.  God 
help  us.  But  we  leave  this  enchanted  island  on  Monday 
morning  at  five  o'clock,  alas  !  and,  if  we  survive  that 
horror,  expect  to  get  to  Craigcrook  that  evening ;  so  write 
west  to  Edinburgh. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  been  amused,  but  more 
glad  that  you  think  with  pleasure  of  your  return.  Home 
is  best,  after  all,  for  good  people.  Why  do  you  stay 
away  from  it  so  long  as  to  8th  August  ?  Innes  is  an  idle 
fellow,  and  always  exceeds  his  furloughs.  I  shall  have 
Murray  to  reprimand  him.  In  the  mean  time,  God  bless 
you  both. — Ever  yours. 

I  am  pretty  well  again,  I  thank  you,  and  can  walk  six 
or  seven  miles  again  well  enough,  either  in  sunshine  or  rair 

VOL.  II.— 20 


230  LIFE   OF   LOUD   JEFFREY. 

135. — To  John  Richardson,  E*q. 

Craigcrook,  Thursday,  7th  September,  1887. 

My  dear  Richardson — I  am  ashamed  to  have  two  kind 
letters  to  answer,  and  in  my  time  of  vacation,  &c. 

We  ran  to  Arran  for  a  fortnight  with  Empson,  soon 
after  the  courts  were  over,  and  we  have  been  entangled 
ever  since  with  a  succession  of  visitors.  We  had  the  Lis- 
ters for  a  fortnight ;  and  then  the  tuneful  Sergeant 
Talfourd  ;  and  then  Sir  J.  and  Lady  A.  Dalrymple  :  and 
now  we  have  my  old  friend  Mr.  W.  Morehead,  after  twelve 
years  of  India ;  and  I  fear  have  invited  others  of  whose 
approach  we  expect  to  hear  daily,  and  are  not  at  liberty  to 
disappoint,  though  I  do  by  no  means  give  up  the  hope  of 
seeing  Kirklands  this  season.  I  must  therefore  free  you 
from  all  restraint  as  to  your  own  engagements,  and  only 
beg  that  you  would  try  to  put  one  to  Craigcrook  as  near 
the  top  of  your  list  as  possible.  We  shall  probably  go  for 
a  short  time  to  my  sister's  in  Ayrshire,  about  the  end  of 
this  month.  But  except  that  (and  the  hope  of  Kirklands), 
J  see  little  to  disturb  our  residence  here  for  the  remainder 
of  the  autumn.  Do  come  therefore  with  my  dear  Hope,* 
and  as  many  more  as  you  can,  and  let  us  have  a  tranquil 
week,  and  some  pensive  and  cheerful  retrospections  among 
my  shades,  to  soothe  our  declining  days,  and  enable  them 
the  better  to  stand  a  comparison  with  those  that  are  gone 
by.  There  are  few  things  would  give  me  so  much  pleasure, 
or  do  me  so  much  good,  and  I  think  it  would  not  be  dis- 
agreeable or  hurtful  to  you,  &c. 

I  have  a  strong  pull  at  iuy  heart  toward  Minto,f  and 
what  you  say  of  them  gives  it  a  fresh  tug ;  but  my  anchor 
is  too  deep  in  the  mud  to  let  me  move  for  the  present. 
Why  do  none  of  them  ever  come  here  ?  &c. — Ever  affec- 
tionately yours. 

*  Miss  Richardson.  The  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Minto. 


TO    MR.  EMPSON.  231 

136.— To  Mr.  Empson. 
.  *:j  Craigcrook,  llth  November,  1837. 

Postremum  hunc  Arethusa  ! 

We  go  to  Edinburgh  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  indite  no 
more  to  you  this  year  from  rustic  towers  and  coloured 
woods.  They  have  been  very  lonely  and  tranquil  all  day, 
and  with  no  more  sadness  than  becomes  parting  lovers  ; 
and  now  there  is  a  glorious  full  moon,  looking  from  the 
brightest  pale  sea-green  sky  you  ever  saw  in  your  life.  I 
was  peevish,  I  think,  when  I  wrote  last  to  you ;  and  I 
fancy  you  think  so  too,  since  you  have  taken  no  notice  of 
me  since.  But  I  have  been  long  out  of  that  mood,  so  you 
need  not  resent  it  any  longer,  and  I  really  do  not  require 
any  castigation  for  my  amendment,  for  it  is  not  a  common 
mood  of  my  mind,  and  shall  not  come  back  soon.  I  do 
not  quite  like  this  move,  though  I  believe  my  chief  repug- 
nance is  to  the  early  rising  which  awaits  me,  and  for 
Avhich  I  have  been  training  myself  for  the  last  fortnight 
by  regularly  remaining  in  bed  till  after  ten  o'clock.  You 
cannot  think  with  what  a  pious  longing  I  shall  now  look 
forward  to  Sundays.  In  the  last  week,  I  have  read  all 
Burns' s  life  and  works — not  without  many  tears,  for  the 
life  especially.  What  touches  me  most  is  the  pitiable  po- 
verty in  which  that  gifted  being  (and  his  noble-minded 
father)  passed  his  early  days — the  painful  frugality  to 
which  their  innocence  was  doomed,  and  the  thought  how 
small  a  share  of  the  useless  luxuries  in  which  we  (such 
comparatively  poor  creatures)  indulge,  would  have  sufficed 
to  shed  joy  and  cheerfulness  in  their  dwellings,  and  per- 
haps to  have  saved  that  glorious  spirit  from  the  trials  and 
temptations  under  which  he  fell  so  prematurely.  Oh  my 
dear  Empson,  there  must  be  something  terribly  wrong  in 
the  present  arrangements  of  the  universe,  when  those 
things  can  happen  and  be  thought  natural.  I  could  lie 
in  the  dirt,  and  cry  and  grovel  there,  I  think,  for  a 


232  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

century,  to  save  such  a  soul  as  Burns  from  the  suffering 
and  the  contamination  and  the  degradation  which  these 
surae  arrangements  imposed  upon  him ;  and  I  fancy  that, 
if  I  could  but  have  known  him,  in  my  present  state  of 
wealth  and  influence,  I  might  have  saved,  and  reclaimed, 
and  preserved  him,  even  to  the  present  day.  He  would 
not  have  been  so  old  as  my  brother  judge,  Lord  Glenlee, 
or  Lord  Lynedoch,  or  a  dozen  others  that  one  meets  daily 
in  society.  And  what  a  creature,  not  only  in  genius,  but 
in  nobleness  of  character ;  potentially,  at  least,  if  right 
models  had  been  put  gently  before  him.  But  we  must  not 
dwell  on  it.  You  south  Saxons  cannot  value  him  rightly, 
and  miss  half  the  pathos  and  more  than  half  the  sweet- 
ness. There  is  no  such  mistake  as  that  your  chief  miss  is 
in  the  humour  or  the  shrewd  sense.  It  is  in  far  higher 
and  more  delicate  elements — God  help  you  !  We  shall  be 
up  to  the  whole,  I  trust,  in  another  world.  When  I  think 
of  his  position,  I  have  no  feeling  for  the  ideal  poverty  of 
your  Wordsworths  and  Coleridges ;  comfortable,  flattered, 
very  spoiled,  capricious,  idle  beings,  fantastically  discon- 
tented because  they  cannot  make  an  easy  tour  to  Italy, 
and  buy  casts  and  cameos ;  and  what  poor,  peddling,  whin- 
ing drivellers  in  comparison  with  him !  But  I  will  have 
no  uncharity.  They,  too,  should  have  been  richer. 

Do  you  know  JBerchat,  a  patriot  and  poet,  of  course  an 
exile,  of  Lombardy  ?  He  has  come  home  for  the  winter, 
partly  to  superintend  the  studies  of  a  young  Marchese 
D'Arcanate,  and  partly  to  diversify  his  exile.  He  dined 
here  yesterday,  and  seems  a  vigorous  cosmopolitish  man ; 
but  I  do  not  know  his  poetry.  He  was  a  friend  of  Man- 
zini  and  Foscolo,  and  knew  Pecchio  very  well.  I  think 
he  will  be  acceptable  to  the  judicious,  and  I  am  sure  you 
be  glad  to  see  him,  &c. — Ever  yours. 


TO    MR.  EMPSON.  233 

137.—  To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  26th  November,  1887. 

My  dear  E. — I  should  like  to  be  in  town  now  in  these 
chopping  and  changing  times.  Our  'pilot  made  an  ugly 
yaw  on  first  leaving  his  moorings;  and,  with  tide  and  time 
of  his  own  choosing,  fairly  ran  on  a  reef  before  he  was 
well  under  weigh.  This  lift  of  the  wave  among  the  pen- 
sions seems,  however,  to  have  floated  him  off  again ;  and 
we  are  now  in  smooth  water,  I  hope,  without  much  more 
danger  than  a  bit  of  our  false  keel  or  so  torn  off.  Still  it 
was  an  awkward  accident,  and  abates  one's  confidence  con- 
siderably as  to  any  foul  weather  that  may  be  brewing  for 
us.  Do  write  me  what  is  expected.  I  fear  the  "fierce 
democraty"  of  our  constitution  is  now  to  be  separated 
from  its  more  emollient  ingredients — and  presented  in  pure 
extract — as  embodying  its  whole  virtue.  I  have  no  such 
faith  in  Dr.  Wakely  as  to  taste  a  bit  of  it  upon  his  recom- 
mendation. But  I  am  afraid  many  will  be  rash  enough  to 
make  the  experiment ;  and  who  can  answer  for  the  danger? 
I  wish  somebody  would  write  a  good  paper  on  the  nature 
and  degree  of  authority  which  is  requisite  for  any  thing 
like  a  permanent  government,  and  upon  the  plain  danger 
of  doing  what  might  be  right  for  a  perfectly  instructed 
society,  for  one  just  enough  instructed  to  think  itself  fit 
for  any  thing.  I  am  myself  inclined  to  doubt,  I  own, 
whether  any  degree  of  instruction  would  make  it  safe  to 
give  equal  political  power  to  the  large  poor  classes  of  a 
fully  peopled  country  as  to  the  smaller  and  more  wealthy ; 
though  the  experience  of  America  might  encourage  one  as 
to  this,  if  there  were  only  a  little  more  poverty,  and  a 
little  more  press  of  population,  to  test  the  experiment. 
But  we  shall  see.  With  us  the*c*hange  could  not  be  peace- 
able, and  I  do  not  think  could  be  made  at  all :  the  chances 
being  that  we  should  pass  at  once  from  civil  war  to  a  cant- 
ing military  despotism. 

20* 


234  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

I  am  very  sorry  about  your  London  University  schis- 
matics;  and  am  rather  mortified  that  Arnold  should  be  so 
sticklish.  But  if  he  means  only  that  your  classical  gradu- 
ates should  know  the  unclassical  Greek  of  the  N.  T.,  as 
well  as  that  of  Plato  and  Xenophon,  I  think  you  should 
not  hesitate  to  indulge  him.  If  the  examination  is  to  be 
in  the  doctrine,  as  well  as  the  language — and  truly  an  ex- 
amination in  the  theology  rather  than  in  classics — the  diffi- 
culty no  doubt  will  be  greater,  and  his  unreasonableness 
more  surprising.  Yet  even  then  (though  I  feel  that  the 
advice  may  seem  cowardly,)  seeing  the  ruinous,  and  even 
fatal  consequences  that  would  follow  from  the  secession 
of  all  your  clerical  associates,  I  believe  your  better  course 
will  be  to  comply — making  the  best  terma  you  can  for 
tender  consciences  and  special  cases.  I  do  not  much  like 
the  counsel  I  give  you,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  find  you 
can  do  justice  to  the  institution  by  following  an  opposite 
one.  But  I  do  not  see  how. 

I  am  much  touched  with  what  you  say  of  Wishaw.  I 
was  not  at  all  aware  that  his  sight  was  so  very  much  de- 
cayed. But  I  think  he  is  fortunate  beyond  most  unmarried 
men,  in  being  the  object  of  more  cordial  kindness  than 
such  solitaries  usually  attract ;  and  in  having  so  great  a 
society  of  persons,  of  all  ages,  sexes,  and  occupations,  wil- 
ling to  occupy  themselves  about  him.  His  kindness,  I  do 
think,  has  fructified  more  than  that  of  most  people,  and 
been  the  cause  of  kindness  in  others  to  a  larger  extent. 
Do  remember  me  to  him,  and  assure  him  of  the  interest  I 
shall  always  take  in  him. 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  235 

138.— To  Mr.  Empson, 

(Who  had  sent  him  a  letter  from  Mr.  Macaulay,  stating  reasons  for  pre- 
ferring a  literary  to  a  political  life.) 

Edinburgh,  19th  December,  1837. 
My  dear  E. — I  return  Macaulay's. 

It  is  a  very  striking  and  interesting  letter ;  and  certainly 
puts  the  pros  and  cons  as  to  public  life  in  a  powerful  way 
for  the  latter.  But,  after  all,  will  either  human  motives 
or  human  duties  ever  bear  such  a  dissection  ?  and  should 
we  not  all  become  Hownynyms  or.  Quakers,  and  selfish 
cowardly  fellows,  if  we  were  to  act  on  views  so  systematic  ? 
Who  the  devil  would  ever  have  any  thing  to  do  with  love 
or  war,  nay,  who  would  venture  himself  on  the  sea,  or  on 
a  galloping  horse,  if  he  wrere  to  calculate  in  this  way  the 
chances  of  shortening  life  or  forfeiting  comfort  by  such 
venturesome  doings  ?  And  is  there  not  a  vocation  in  the 
gifts  which  fit  us  for  particular  stations  to  which  it  is  a 
duty  to  listen  ?  Addison  and  Gibbon  did  well  to  write, 
because  they  could  not  speak  in  public.  But  is  that  any 
rule  for  M.  ?  And  then  as  to  the  tranquillity  of  an  au- 
thor's life,  I  confess  I  have  no  sort  of  faith  in  it,  and  am 
sure  that  as  eloquent  a  picture  might  be  drawn  of  its  cares, 
and  fears,  and  mortifications,  its  feverish  anxieties,  humi- 
liating rivalries  and  jealousies,  and  heart-sinking  exhaus- 
tion, as  he  has  set  before  us  of  a  statesman.  And  as  to 
fame,  if  an  author's  is  now  and  then  more  lasting,  it  is 
generally  longer  withheld,  and,  except  in  a  few  rare  cases, 
it  is  of  a  less  pervading  or  elevating  description.  A  great 
poet,  or  great  original  writer,  is  above  all  other  glory. 
But  who  would  give  much  for  such  a  glory  as  Gibbon's. 
Besides,  I  believe  it  is  in  the  inward  glow  and  pride  of 
consciously  influencing  the  great  destinies  of  mankind, 
much  more  than  in  the  sense  of  personal  reputation,  that 
the  delight  of  either  poet  or  statesman  chiefly  consists. 


236  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

Shakspeare  plainly  cared  nothing  about  his  glory,  and 
Milton  referred  it  to  other  ages.  And,  after  all,  why  not 
be  both  statesmen  and  authors,  like  Burke  and  Clarendon. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  write  all  this,  for  I  really  am  very 
busy,  and  it  is  such  idle  talking.  Come,  and  we  shall  have 
the  talk  out  more  comfortably.  It  is  very  warm  here  for 
the  last  four  days.  The  thermometer  always  above  fifty. 
With  kindest  remembrances  to  Marianne. — Ever  yours. 

139. — To  the  Solicitor- General  (Rutherfurd). 

Northallerton,  Tuesday  Evening, 

22d  March,  1838. 

My  dear  Solicitor — On  very  well  you  see ;  through  a 
blustering  cold  equinoctial  day  as  might  be.  The  roads 
rather  heavy,  from  recent  repairs,  and  severe  wet,  but 
nothing  extraordinary.  Very  good  indeed  from  Hadding- 
ton  to  Berwick,  and  quite  sound  all  along ;  patches  of 
snow  in  corners  till  past  Morpeth.  We  made  Alnwick 
before  eight  last  night.  Here  to-night  half  an  hour  later, 
though  earlier  off.  The  English  roads  the  most  hilly. 
Mr.  Hirst  keeps  capital  fires,  and  the  prize  ox  at  Rushy- 
ford  furnished  an  admirable  cold  sirloin.  I  have  been 
reading  Sir  Walter's  last  volume*  with  great  interest,  and 
growing  love  for  his  real  kindness  of  nature.  It  does  one 
good  to  find  some  of  the  coarsenesses  of  the  former  volumes 
so  nobly  redeemed  in  this.  Poor  Scott !  could  we  but 
have  him  back,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  w§  would  make  more 
of  him.  I  have  had  strong  pullings  at  the  heart  home- 
wards again,  and  feel  half  as  if  I  were  too  old  and  lazy  for 
any  other  place  now.  But  there  is  room  in  London  for 
quiet  lookers  on,  as  well  as  for  the  more  spirited  actors ; 
and  there  is  no  place,  I  believe,  where  a  good  listener  and 
indulgent  spectator  is  more  popular.  You  are  decorating 
yourself  at  this  moment,  I  suppose,  to  grace  Lady  G.'s 

• - : «- . — 

*  Of  his  Life. 


TO   MRS.   EMPSON.  237 

racketty  ball.  If  you  wish  to  please  her,  stay  very  late, 
and  drink  a  great  deal  of  noisy  champagne.  Write  to  say 
when  we  may  look  for  you. 

140. — To  Mrs.  Empson, 

(Who  had  left  him,  some  weeks  after  her  marriage.) 

Edinburgh,  Thursday,  one  o'clock, 

13th  September,  1838. 

My  dear  Charley — You  have  had  a  nice  time  of  it. 
Calm  and  warm  all  night,  and  now  bright  balmy  summer, 
with  no  more  wind  than  just  to  wave  the  awning  under 
which  I  now  see  you  sitting,  looking  out  on  the  clear  sea, 
and  the  varying  shore,  and  leaning,  not  too  tenderly  I 
hope,  on  Empson  !  We  got  over  yesterday  very  well.  I 
believe  I  was  the  most  disturbed  of  the  party ;  but  a  kind 
of  horror  of  the  water,  and  anxiety^  about  your  safety, 
made  part  of  my  uneasiness.  It  was  a  relief  when  the 
servants  came  back,  and  reported  that  you  were  safe,  and 
not  uncomfortable  aboard,  and  that  you  had  found  a 
dandie,  who  was  to  supply  the  loss  of  poor  Witchy.  Your 
mother  drank  two  bumpers  of  claret,  and  slept  on  the 
sofa.  I  read  Peter  M'Culloch,  though  with  something  of 
a  wavering  attention.  The  most  pathetic  occurrence  of 
the  evening  was  poor  Witchy*  bouncing  out  of  our  bed 
when  I  went  up  to  it,  and  running  to  the  door  leading  to 
your  little  old  deserted  room,  and  howling  low  and  sweet 
at  it  for  some  time.  She  had  missed  you  down  stairs,  and 
had  evidently  been  struck  with  the  notion  that  you  were 
down  there,  sick,  and  neglected  of  all  but  her !  We 
soothed  her  as  well  as  we  could,  and  took  her  to  our 
bosoms,  where  she  lay  like  a  dead  dog,  still  and  dispirited, 
the  whole  night.  She  is  rather  out  of  sorts  still  this 
morning.  I  am  glad  it  is  bright  again ;  for  though  I  defy 
skyey  influences,  and  am  pleased  with  such  weather  as 

*  A  little  dog. 


238  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

pleased  God,  I  feel  that  there  IB  something  cheerful  in 
mild  clear  sunshine.  It  is  really  very  sweet  to-day.  The 
thermometer  is  sixty-one,  and,  after  the  dewing  of  yester- 
day, every  thing  is  so  fresh  and  fragrant !  How  is  it  in 
New  Street  ?  Your  spring  gardens  will  stand  no  com- 
parison with  our  autumn  one.  And  yet  the  Park  wall  be 
pretty,  especially  in  this  season  of  London  solitude,  &c. 

How  is  Whitey?  Her  Scotch  voice,  I  hope,  will  not 
soon  grow  distasteful  to  your  ears.  Bless  you. — Ever 
yours. 

141. — To  the  Lord  Advocate  (Rutherfurd}. 

Craigcrook,  Monday,  3d  June,  1839. 

My  dear  R. — Why  the  devil  do  you  not  say  something 
in  Parliament,  while  yet  it  is  called  to-day,  and  before  the 
night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  speak  ?  Let  your  mouth 
then  be  opened,  if  it  were  only  for  once,  like  that  of 
Balaam's  ass,  and  let  my  cudgel  provoke  you,  if  not  the 
abundance  of  the  heart !  I  glance  over  every  newspaper, 
in  hopes  of  finding  your  name  at  the  top  of  a  long 
column — broken  with  cheers ;  but  there  you  are  mute  as  a 
fish,  and  only  figuring  in  the  miraculous  draft  of  a  large 
division.  If  you  cannot  get  your  Scotch  Voters'  Bill  on 
soon,  you  should  speak  on  the  Education  question — on 
which  speeches  enough,  I  fear,  will  be  needed.  But  it  is 
properly  a  Scotch  question ;  for  why  the  devil  should  our 
Presbyterian  party  be  taxed  to  support  schools  exclusively 
Episcopal  ?  I  wish  they  had  left  the  accredited  Bibles  in 
possession  of  their  monopoly;  and  if  this  were  conceded,  I 
cannot  but  think  that  the  great  difficulty  would  be  got 
over. 

Macaulay  has  got  on  beautifully  here,  and  not  only  de- 
lighted all  true  and  reasonable  Whigs,  but  surprisingly 
mollified  both  Tories  and  Radicals.  They  will  give  him 
no  trouble  to-morrow,  unless  some  blackguard  radicals 
should  hold  up  their  dirty  hands  and  bellow  at  the  nomi- 


TO    MRS.  RUTHERFURD.  239 

nation.  But  I  think  tbere  is  no  chance  of  this.  The 
more  he  is  known,  however,  the  more  he  is  liked.  He  re- 
lies a  great  deal  on  you,  for  counsel  and  information  on 
all  local  questions ;  and  I  have  undertaken  that  you  shall 
not  grudge  him  your  assistance. 

"VYe  have  no  news  here  now  that  the  Venerable  has 
closed  its  sittings ;  the  most  memorable,  and  likely  to  be 
remembered,  since  1638.* 

God  bless  you  my  dear  R.  I  .find  nobody  here  to  fill 
your  place,  though  I  am  generous  enough  not  to  wish  you 
back  before  August. 

142.— To  G-eorge  J.  Bell,  Esq. 

Craigcrook,  Sunday  Evening,  7th  July,  1839. 

My  dear  Bell — It  is  very  pleasing  to  have  such  letters 
•written  to  one's  friend,  and  of  one's  profession  and  coun- 
try; and  still  more  pleasant  to  think  that  we  (in  some 
sort)  deserve  to  be  so  written  of.  If  we  were  all  as  zealous 
and  unwearied  in  the  discharge  of  our  duties  as  you  are, 
we  should  have  more  of  the  latter  feeling.  As  it  is,  it 
must  be  chastised,  I  fear  in  most,  by  many  compunctious 
visitings.  But  you  may  always  look  back  to  such  memo- 
rials as  this  without  a  pang  of  self-reproach. f  God  bless 
you. — Ever  faithfully  yours. 

143.— To  Mrs.  Eutherfurd. 

Craigcrook,  14th  July,  1839. 

My  sweet,  gentle,  and  long-suffering  Sophia — Your 
(just)  resentment  is  terrible  enough  at  a  distance ;  but  it 
would  kill  me  at  hand,  and  therefore  I  must  mollify  it,  in 
some  way  or  another,  before  you  come  down  ;  for  you  know 
I  could  never  live  to  see  you  « into  terror  turn  your  counte- 

*  The  General  Assembly,  called  the  Venerable. 

f  Mr.  Bell  had  sent  him  two  letters,  written  by  Kent  and  Story,  the 
eminent  American  lawyers,  on  their  receiving  copies  of  Bell's  "Prin- 
ciples." 


LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

nance,  too  severe  to  behold !"  What,  then,  shall  I  say  to 
appease  you  ?  What,  but  that  I  am  a  miserable  sinner  ? 
and  yet  more  miserable  than  sinning,  for  I  am  old  and 
indolent,  and  yet  forced  to  work  like  a  young  tiger,  and 
obliged  to  walk  to  keep  my  stagnating  blood  in  motion,  till, 
with  toil  and  early  rising,  I  am  overtaken  with  sleep  in 
the  afternoons,  and  have  scarcely  time  and  vigour  for  my 
necessary  labours.  "  Ah  little  think  the  gay  licentious 
proud  !"  And  then  I  have  grown  (and  high  time  too)  so 
conscious  of  my  failings,  and  diffident  of  my  powers  of 
pleasing,  and  so  possessed  with  the  dread  of  your  increased 
fastidiousness  in  that  great  scornful  London,  and  of  the 
odiousness  of  the  comparisons  to  which  I  would  subject 
myself,  that,  altogether,  and  upon  the  whole,  you  see,  it 
has  been  as  it  were,  or  as  you  would  say,  impossible,  or  at 
least  not  easy,  to  answer  your  kmd  and  entertaining  letter 
with  any  thing  but  kindness ;  which  I  thought  might  be  de- 
spised or  not  thought  good  enough  for  you,  and  so  forth  ! 
And  so  you  understand  all  about  it,  and  must  forgive  me 
whether  you  will  or  not ;  and  pity  me  into  the  bargain — 
with  that  pity  which  melts  the  soul  to  love — and  so  we  are 
friends  again.  And  you  shall  be  received  into  my  heart, 
whenever  you  like;  and  if  you  see  any  thing  there  that 
offends  you,  I  shall  give  you  leave  to  pluck  it  out. 

We  baptized  little  Charley  yesterday,  with  perfect  suc- 
oess.  It  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to  have  seen 
with  what  earnestness  she  renounced  the  devil,  and  the 
vain  pomp  and  glory  of  the  world,  as  she  lay  sputtering 
off  the  cold  water,  in  the  arms  of  the  Rev.  C.  Terrot.  The 
ceremony  was  at  two  o'clock,  and  then  we  had  lunch  and 
champagne,  and  then  all  the  party  reeled  out,  some  to  the 
greenwood  shade,  and  some  to  the  bowling-green — where 
I  won  three  shillings  from  Cockburn  (quite  fairly)  by  the 
sweat  of  my  brow,  and  then  we  had  a  jolly  dinner — and 
the  loveliest  summer  day  ever  seen  so  far  to  the  north. 
But  I  have  said  all  this  to  Rutherfurd  already,  and  fear  I 


TO   MRS.  RUTHERFURD.  241 

am  falling  into  dotage.  Her  Majesty's  ship,  the  Benbow, 
of  74  guns,  has  been  lying  in  our  roadstead  for  three 
weeks,  and  is  visited  daily  by  incredible  crowds  of  idle 
people.  Last  Sunday  there  were  no  fewer  than  3000.  I 
do  not  ask  you  to  believe  that  on  my  word,  but  on  that 
of  the  gallant  Captain  Houston  Stewart,  who  told  me  so, 
as  I  sat  by  him  at  a  drunken  dinner  of  the  Northern  Lights 
last  Thursday,  and,  moreover,  assured  me  that  he  had 
never  used  more  than  two  dozen  of  champagne  on  any  one 
day — (Josy  Hume-  should  be  told  how  our  naval  stores  go.) 
I  hate  the  water  too  much  to  follow  the  multitude ;  but 
Charley  (the  first]  had  not  so  much"  sense,  and-  went  one 
day  with  Lady  Bell.  Charley  (the  second)  was  wiser,  and 
staid  with  me.  Moreover,  Lady  Bell  and  her  husband 
have  almost  fixed  on  building  a  little  cottage  on  the  corner 
of  my  Clermiston  farm,  close  to  my  boundary  on  the  west, 
near  the  open  space  where  there  are  cottages,  and  a  very 
fine  view.  But  they  say  the  chief  charm  is,  that  they  can 
see  Ratho*  from  it.  Ah !  poor  deserted  Ratho !  and  when 
not  deserted,  destined  to  be  filled  with  all  the  corrupt  over- 
flowings of  London,  and  the  Houses  of  Parliament :  and  to 
resound  to  the  echo  of  metropolitan  riot  and  intemperate 
insolence  !  Oh  peaceful  shades  !  oh  fields  beloved  in  vain  I 
where  once  my  careless  Sophy  strayed,  a  stranger  yet  to 
Town  I  God  help  us.  But  you  will  come  back,  and  I  may 
find  a  soft  evening  hour  to  revive  these  innocent  recollec- 
tions. Lowry  Cockburn  has  been  down  for  a  few  days, 
and  has  gone  again  to  London.  His  mother  says,  he  is 
paying  them  another  visit  before  encountering  another 
shipwreck.  But  I  do  not  see  the  good  of  having  the  pain 
of  a  third  parting.  She  was  rather  low,  I  thought,  yester- 
day, though  full  of  motherly  kindness  to  all  us  young 
people.  The  Murrays  go  towards  Strachur  on  Thursday 

*  A  place  a  few  miles  from  Edinburgh,  which  the  Rutherfurds  had 
lease  of. 

VOL.  II.— 21  Q 


242  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

— full  of  projects  for  furnishing,  fishing,  and  beautifying. 
I  hope  she  is  rather  better.  Lauder  is  very  happy  with 
his  new  appointment.  M'Bean  has  renewed  his  wig,  and 
looks  as  young  as  a  viper  who  has  just  cast  his  enamelled 
skin. 

144. —  To  the  Lord  Advocate  (RutherfurcT). 

Craigcrook,  Tuesday,  13th  August,  1839. 

My  dear  R. — You  must  be  coming  back  .to  us  at  last. 
"  Time  and  the  hours  run  through  the  roughest  day  ;"  and 
I  reckon  fully  on  seeing  you  here  before  my  spell  in  the 
bill-chamber,  vice  Glenlee,  is  over,  on  the  26th,  &c. 

We  are  still  very  quiet  and  patriarchal  here,  and  our 
tranquillity  has  not  yet  been  disturbed  by  the  Chartist  rites 
of  the  sacred  month,  or  any  other  of  their  unhallowed 
doings.  Yet  I  have  a  deep  and  painful  impression  that  it 
cannot  end  now  without  bloodshed,  and  that  not  by  drib- 
lets on  the  scaffold,  but  by  gushes  on  the  field.  It  is 
miserable  ;  but  I  see  no  other  issue,  and  can  only  pray 
that  those  who  are  sure  to  suffer  may  be  first  put  flagrantly 
in  the  wrong. 

I  am  disappointed  that  the  session  is  to  close  without 
your  having  given  the  Commons  a  taste  of  your  quality, 
and  only  hope  that  the  length  of  your  silent  noviciate  will 
not  make  you  more  unwilling  to  speak  when  your  tongue 
is  at  last  loosened.  The  Lords  will  have  done  something 
to  keep  you  in  wind.  I  fancy  you  have  had  stiff  work 
there,  &c. 

I  was  delighted  to  see  Sophia's  fair  hand  again,  but  had 
no  idea  how  frightfully  ill  she  had  been.  I  have  a  letter 
of  the  same  strain  from  fair  Theresa  Lister,  who  seems  to 
have  been  still  worse.  But  I  trust  both  are  out  of  the 
scrape  now,  and  will  have  purchased  a  long  holiday  by 
this  rough  service.  There  is  something  voluptuous  in  a 
steady  and  idle  convalescence  in  fine  weather,  and  among 
kind  people.  "  The  common  air,  the  sun,  the  sky,  &c." 


TO    MRS.  CRAIG.  243 

I  suspect  you  will  find  Edinburgh  a  desert.  Even 
Douce  Davy*  has  hidden  himself  in  shades,  and  gone  for  a 
•whole  month  to  the  count;  k~  for  the  first  time,  I  believe, 
since  he  was  a  W.  S.  But  you  have  had  enough  of  town, 
I  fancy,  and  will  be  glad  enough  to  meditate  in  the  fields 
at  eventide  with  me,  at  Ratho  or  Craigcrook  ;  unless, 
indeed,  you  were  to  break  a  spear  at  the  tournament,  which 
seems  to  me  a  very  operose  piece  of  dullness. 

Well,  come  quickly  !  quid  plura,  &c. — -Ever  yours. 

145.— To  Mrs.  Craig. 

Dunkeld,  Friday,  20th  September,  1839. 

My  dearest  Jane — I  thought  I  should  have  written  to 
you  from  Rothiemurchus  !f  Would  not  that  ha\e  been 
nice  ?  But  I  cannot  get  any  nearer.  I  have  resolved  to 
visit  E.  Ellice  at  Invereshie,  when  I  certainly  should  have 
made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Doun,  but  I  was  stopped  by 
visitors  I  could  not  decline,  and  now  must  hurry  back  for 
certain  judicial  duties,  which  the  new  law  has  put  on  our 
vacation,  and  for  which  I  must  be  at  my  post  next  Monday. 
It  is  something,  however,  to  have  peeped  even  so  far  into 
the  threshold  of  your  central  highlands,  to  have  smelt  the 
peat  smoke  of  your  cottages,  heard  the  sweet  chime  of 
your  rocky  cascades,  and  seen  your  shiny  cliffs  starting 
from  every  birch  and  dark  pine,  and  the  blue  ridges  of 
your  distant  hills  melting  into  the  inland  sky.  I  need  not 
tell  you  what  recollections  are  awakened  by  these  objects, 
nor  how  fresh,  at  such  moments,  all  the  visions  of  youth, 
and  the  deeper  tinted,  and  scarcely  less  glorious,  dreams 
of  manhood,  come  back  upon  the  heart.  I  have  been 
thinking,  all  day,  of  one  of  the  last,  I  rather  think  it  was 
the  last,  time  I  saw  you  at  Rothiemurchus,  and  of  a  long 
rambling  ride  we  had,  upon  ponies,  through  the  solemn, 

*  Mr.  David  Claghorn,  Crown-Agent,  a  most  excellent  man. 
f  The  seat  of  Mrs.  Craig's  family. 


244  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

twilight  of  a  dark  autumnal  day.  The  birches  and  oak 
copses  were  all  of  a  deep  tawny  yellow,  the  pines,  spreading 
far  over  the  plains,  of  an  inky  blue,  a  broad  band  of  saffron 
light  gleaming  sadly  in  the  west,  and  the  Spey  sweeping 
and  sounding  hoarsely  below  us,  as  we  paused,  for  a  long 
time,  on  a  height  near  the  gamek'eeper's  house.  Have 
you  any  recollection  of  that  same  ?  I  remember  it  as  if 
it  were  yesterday,  or  rather  feel  it  as  if  it  were  still  before 
me.  Why,  or  how,  I  cannot  tell.  But  there  it  is; -as 
vivid,  and  clear,  and  real,  as  when  it  was  present  to  my 
senses.  And  it  is  as  real  and  true,  if  memory  and  feeling 
be  as  much  parts  of  our  nature  as  our  senses,  and  give  us 
the  same  assurance  of  the  existence  of  their  objects.  But 
I  did  not  mean  to  write  thus  to  you,  but  to  answer  your 
letter  as  it  ought  to  be  answered.  The  air  of  your  moun- 
tains has  disordered  me,  but  I  am  sober  again  and  pro- 
ceed, &c. 

146. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  23d  January,  1840. 

Thank  you  for  your  pleasant  letter  of  Tuesday,  and  for 
liking  Dollylolly.  I  wonder  you  are  not  more  struck  with 
the  likeness  to  papa ;  except  indeed  that  she  is  so  much 
handsomer.  R.  says  you  are  looking  peculiarly  well,  and 
ventures  to  add,  that  he  thinks  you  every  way  improved, 
•which  conveys  an  insinuation  against  your  Scotch  breeding 
and/apons,  which  I  do  not  entirely  relish.  I  hope  you  will 
never  improve  out  of  your  old  simplicity  and  unambitious 
sweetness,  or  even  out  of  those  thoughtful  traits  of  nation- 
ality, which  I  think  (and  you  used  to  think)  so  loveable. 
Give  me  assurance,  if  you  please,  of  this.  Before  I  forget, 
let  me  give  you,  my  love,  a  little  exhortation  against  over 
anxiety  about  Empson's  health,  which  I  have  several  times 
resolved  lately  to  address  to  you.  I  fear  you  have  some- 
thing of  this  spirit  in  your  nature,  or  at  least  in  your  habits, 
which  it  is  really  of  great  consequence  to  repress,  and  if 


TO   MRS.    EMPSON.  245 

possible,  eradicate.  It  is  very  much  a  matter  of  habit,  and, 
if  not  altogether  voluntary,  capable  at  least  of  being  very 
much  restrained  by  a  steady  volition  and  effort  against  it. 
It  is  a  source  of  great  and  useless  misery, — the  vigilance 
requisite  for  all  practicable  precautions  being  perfectly 
consistent  with  a  habit  of  hopefulness  and  trust,  and  with 
the  power  of  distracting  the  mind  from  the  contemplation 
of  contingent  disasters.  Even  when  danger  is  pretty  im- 
minent, and  the  odds  considerable  on  its  side,  there  is  great 
virtue,  and  I  need  not  -say  relief,  in  this  power  of  abstrac- 
tion and  compulsory  forgetfulness.  But  to  dwell,  habitu- 
ally upon  remote  and  improbable  calamities,  is  not  only  a 
weakness  and  a  misery,  but  a  vice ;  and  so  "  pray  be  not 
over  exquisite  (as  the  divine  Milton  hath  it)  to  cast  the 
shadows  of  uncertain  evils  ;" — and  so  I  have  done.  But 
do  not  laugh  at  this,  but  recal  it,  and  make  an  effort,  when 
you  are  tempted  to  fall  into  those  gloomy  views.  God 
bless  you.  I  dined  with  Macaulay  yesterday  at  the  Pro- 
vost's, where  we  dualized.  The  talk  very  much  as  at 

's.     But,    except    on   those   two    occasions,    I   have 

scarcely  seen  him,  so  much  is  he  distracted  by  meetings, 
deputations,  and  correspondence.  The  election  went  off 
quietly  to-day  ;  no  show  of  opposition,  and  as  the  day  was 
bad,  no  great  attendance,  and  short  speaking.  They  were 
taking  down  the  hustings  when  I  came  out  of  court  at  half- 
past  four.  His  speech  on  Tuesday,  I  hear,  was  admirable. 
We  send  you  a  copy  of  the  Caledonian.*  He  is  to  have  a 
great  dinner  to-day,  and  to  be  off  by  the  evening  mail,  and 
may  see  you  as  soon  as  this.  I  am  sorry  I  had  so  little  of 
him.  But  I  expected  no  better.  Dolly  perfect  still ;  very 
fond  of  sweet  wine  ;  and  bites  and  sucks  my  finger,  long 
after  she  has  licked  off  what  has  stuck  to  it.  She  likes 
one  to  murmur  softly  into  her  ears,  and  to  have  her  face 
lightly  brushed  by  my  gray  hair.  I  cannot  tell  you  yet  to 
what  Tory  the  gown  will  be  offered ;  but  I  may  to-morrow. 

*  Caledonian  Mercury,  an  Edinburgh  newspaper. 
21* 


246  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

147.—  To  Mn.  0.  Inne*. 

Edinburgh,  Thursday,  Cth  February,  1840. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Innes — 

I  forgot  to  applaud  your  purpose  of  entering  on  that 
best  study.  But  I  do  not  believe  you  could  ever  doubt 
that  I  would  applaud  it.  0  yes  !  read,  and  read,  in  those 
Scriptures,  as  often,  as  largely,  and  as  carefully,  as  you  can  ; 
only  take  care  not  to  surfeit  yourself,  by  taking  too  much 
sweet  at  a  time  ;  and  still  more,  beware  of  stupifying  your- 
self by  poring  and  plodding  in  search  of  a  profound  meaning, 
which  you  fear  you  may  not  have  seen,  or  a  latent  beauty 
which  you  fancy  may  have  escaped  you.  There  are  no  such 
hidden  mysteries  in  Shakspeare.  He  is  level  to  all  capaci- 
ties, and  "speaks,  with  every  tongue,  to  every  purpose." 
The  diction,  which  is  mostly  that  of  his  age,  may  occasion- 
ally perplex  those  who  are  not  familiar  with  it  at  first.  But 
that  is  soon  got  over,  and  then  you  have  only  to  give  him 
and  yourself  fair  play,  by  reading  when  you  are  in  the 
right  mood,  and  that  with  reasonable  attention,  which  one 
who  likes  flowers  and  fine  scenery  will  always  give  to  such 
things  when  they  are  around  his  path,  instead  of  hurrying 
on  unobservant  to  the  journey's  end.  It  is  of  some  conse- 
quence, perhaps,  if  you  are  really  to  go  through  the  whole 
series  of  plays  (which  I  earnestly  recommend),  to  know 
with  which  you  had  best  begin.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
know  enough  of  your  tastes,  and  probable  repugnances,  to 
be  able  to  advise  you. 

The  single  play  which  has  more  of  the  prodigality  of 
high  fancy,  united  with  infinite  discrimination  of  character, 
and  moral  wisdom  and  pathos,  than  any  other,  is  Hamlet. 
But  then  it  has  so  much,  of  what  is  wayward  and  unac- 
countable, that,  if  you  are  apt  to  be  perplexed  with  such 
things,  you  might  probably  do  best  to  begin  with  Othello, 
which,  with  less  exuberance  and  variety,  is  full  of  deep 
feeling,  force,  and  dignity ;  and  all  perfectly  consistent, 


TO    MRS.  INNES.  247 

smooth,  and  intelligible.  -  And  then  take  Macbeth,  which, 
in  spite  of  its  witches  and  goblins,  has  the  same  recom- 
mendation of  not  startling  you  with  strangeness  and  wild 
fancies,  but  keeps  the  solemn  tenor  of  its  way,  right  on  to 
the  grand  conclusion.  For  the  comedies,  the  two  Parts 
of  Henry  IV.  and  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  are  about 
the  best ;  though  As  You  Like  It  is  more  airy,  graceful, 
and  elegant,  and,  to  my  taste,  though  less  powerful  and 
inventive,  on  the  whole  more  agreeable.  But  now,  if  you 
rejoice  in  the  sweet  diction  and  delicate  fancies  of  the  truly 
poetical  parts  of  these  plays,  you  may  proceed  to  the  more 
ethereal  revelations  of  the  Tempest  and  the  Midsummer's 
Dream,  and  all  the  bright  magic  of  Ariel  and  Titania. 
And  what  things  these  are !  and  how  they  have  illumined 
and  perfumed  our  lower  world,  by  the  play  of  their  sweet 
immortality,  and  the  wafture  of  their  shining  wings ! 
Then  that  best  romance  of  youth  and  love — the  Romeo 
and  Juliet — and  the  gracious  Idyll  of  Perdita,  and  the 
great  sea  of  tears  poured  out  in  Lear,  and  the  sweet 
austere  composure  and  purity  of  Isabella  in  Measure  for 
Measure,  and  the  sublime  misanthropy  of  Timon;  and — 
but  there  is  no  end  to  this — and  those  are  the  best  of  them. 
Only  I  must  say  a  word  for  the  glorious  and  gorgeous 
abandonment  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  through  the  whole 
of  which  you  breathe  an  atmosphere  of  intoxication  and 
heroic  voluptuousness;  and  the  gentle  majesty  of  Brutus 
and  his  Portia,  in  contrast  with  the  stern  and  noble  pride 
and  indignation  of  Coriolanus.  There,  now,  you  see  what 
it  is  to  set  me  off  upon  Shakspeare !  But  it  is  to  set  you 
on  him,  and  that  must  be  my  apology;  besides  that  I  could 
not  help  it.  To  end  my  lecture,  I  will  only  say,  do  not 
read  too  fast.  Two  days  to  one  play  will  not  be  too  much ; 
and  look  back  to  them  again  as  often  as  you  please.  And 
do  not  read  every  day,  unless  you  have  a  call  that  way. 
And  so  God  prosper  your  pleasant  studies,  and  bless  them 
for  your  good. 


248  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

I  do  not  think  I  have  any  news  for  you.  I  hope  you 
were  satisfied  with  the  Division^  and  are  not  in  such  de- 
spair about  the  Government  as  you  were  lately,  though 
there  is  still  need  enough  to  join  trembling  with  your  mirth. 
I  was  really  shocked  at  your  confession  of  Tory  propensi- 
ties. What  could  have  given  a  disposition  like  yours  a 
bias  to  so  hard-hearted  and  insolent  a  creed?  But  I  hope 
you  are  now  thoroughly  converted  from  the  error  of  your 
ways,  and  look  with  proper  humiliation  on  the  sins  of  your 
youth,  &c. 

Our  Dolly  has  got  a  fifth  tooth !  and  as  easily  as  all  the 
former.  She  saw  her  own  blood  for  the  first  time  yester- 
day, and  was  much  pleased  with  its  fine  colour,  which  she 
daubed  all  over  the  table-cloth  and  my  face  with  much 
hearty  laughter,  having  cut  her  finger  with  a  bit  of  sharp 
glass.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  understand  how  the  little 
wretch's  blood  comes  to  be  so  red,  when  she  has  never 
eaten  any  think  but  white  milk!  Can  you  expound  that 
mystery  ?  &c. — Ever  very  affectionately  yours. 

148. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Thursday,  20th  February,  1840. 

I  had  a  lonely  thoughtful  walk  to-day — after  leaving  the 
court — first  among  the  strange  narrow  gloomy  little  lanes, 
running  down  from  the  High  Street,  which  I  used  to  fre- 
quent in  my  boyish  days,  and  in  which  I  am  offended  with 
various  mean  new  houses  which  have  come  in  place  of  the 
old  tumble-down  black  fetid  piles,  which  were  my  acquaint- 
ances of  yore;  and  then  out  round  the  skirts  of  Arthur's 
Seat  and  the  Crags,  where  there  are  far  fewer  traces  of  re- 
cent innovation,  but  a  great  entireness  and  fixity  of  old  lone- 
liness and  beauty,  and  old  associations.  I  looked  rather 
mournfully  to  a  steep  ascent,  up  which  I  escorted  your 
mother  to  the  craggy  summit  just  about  thirty  years  ago, 
(and  so  some  few  years  before  you  were  born,)  and  formed 


TO-  MR.    EMPSON.  219 

a  bold  resolution  to  climb  it  again  with  her  the  first  fine 
day; — but  to-day  is  not  fine  nor  any  day  this  week.  It  is 
east  wind  still,  and  has  been  dropping  small  siftings  of  snow 
or  hail  through  the  black  sky  for  the  last  forty-eight  hours. 
Thermometer  about  forty.  Dolly  is  perfect — with  a  per- 
pendicular ridge  up  her  forehead  like  the  sharp  edge  of  a 
wig-block.  You  understand?  very  funny  though — and 
her  hair  growing  nicely,  of  a  bright  metallic  lustre,  and 
reasonably  thick  on  the. apex  of  her  head,  though  peaked 
at  the  temples  still,  as  you  may  see  in  the  picture.  God 
bless  you,  dearest.  In  about  a  month  shall  we  not  be 
coming  to  you?  and  this  is  the  shortest  month  too  of  all. — 
Ever  yours. 

149. — To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Wednesday,  4th  May,  1840. 

I  do  not  believe  your  Frenchman  who  says  that  a  Napo- 
leon— that  is,  a  Napoleon  feeding  on  derived  claims  and 
memories — could  have  any  chance,  if  there  was  an  open 
competition  for  French  sovereignty.  What  another  incar- 
nation of  the  last  potent  spirit  might  do  in  France,  or 
anywhere,  is  another  question.  But  I  do  not  believe  there 
is  any  such  hankering  after  conscriptions  and  a  military 
despotism  (for  that  is  the  synonym  of  military  glory,  and 
well  enough  understood)  among  the  really  influential  classes 
in  France,  as  to  give  any  chance  for  a  mere  military  chief, 
much  less  for  an  alien  who  has  achieved  no  glory  for  him- 
self. All  that  is  mere  chatter,  and  only  proves  that  there 
is  much  discontent  and  much  loose  thinking  and  talking 
on  great  subjects,  which  we  scarcely  needed  a  man  to  come 
across  the  channel  and  tell  us.  How  odd  it  is  that  there 
can  be  no  strong  governments  now  in  free  countries !  I 
think  I  see  the  theory  of  this,  and  it  would  make  a  pretty 
pendant  to  yours  of  open  questions,  and  belongs  to  the 
same  category.  Do  you  see  the  bearings  ?  or  shall  I  take 
half  a  sheet  by-and-by  and  unfold  them  ?  You  see,  the 


250  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

Tory  lords  are  pressing  government  now  for  an  act  to  settle 
our  despised  Non-intrusion  friends,  and  the  bishops  taking 
part  in  it,  too,  and  wishing  the  abuses  of  patronage  to  be 
repressed  by  the  legislature  in  England,  as  well  as  in  Scot- 
land !  Bravo !  But  if  we  in  the  north  are  not  to  get 
more  protection  from  that  abuse  than  your  English  bishops 
will  support  for  you,  we  must  go  to  our  hill-sides  and  con- 
venticles again.  But  we  will  get  enow,  and  must,  or  i,t 
will  be  taken:  I  hear  nothing  authentic  of  Perthshire  to- 
day, except  that  both  sides  talk  big,  which  may  be  believed 
on  slight  testimony.  Fox  Maule  coming  in  person  is  worth 
fifty  votes  at  least — an  admirable  canvasser,  and  so  person- 
ally popular. 

150.— To  Mrs.  C.  Innes. 

Edinburgh,  Tuesday,  2d  June,  1840. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Innes — Though  I  have  nothing  new  to 
tell  you,  I  feel  that  I  must  write  to  say  that  I  hope  you 
were  gratified,  or  at  least  relieved,  by  the  tidings  I  brought 
to  Innes  yesterday.*  It  is  small  promotion,  certainly ; 
but  there  is  something  tranquillizing  in  the  sense  of  secu- 
rity, and  I  trust  it  is  but  the  harbinger  of  future  good. 
Progress  and  hope,  in  worldly  affairs  at  least,  are  far  bet- 
ter than  ultimate  prosperity ;  and  the  moderate  and  suc- 
cessive advances  by  which  patient  merit  makes  its  way  to 
distinction  and  opulence  are  a  thousand  times  more  envi- 
able than  the  dull  possession  of  them  by  those  to  whom 
they  have  always  been  familiar. 

There  is  no  post  to-day,  so  that  there  will  be  no  formal 
communication  till  to-morrow.  But  I  can  no  longer  have 
any  doubt  about  the  result,  &c. 

Lord  Meadowbank's  sick  daughter  is  dead,  poor  thing. 
How  life  steals  or  starts  away  from  us !  and  how  little  it 
alters  some  people,  I  mean  internally,  in  its  course.  I 

*  Or  bis  being  made  Sheriff  of  Morayshire. 


TO    MR.    EMPSON.  251 

can  remember  the  events,  and  look  back  on  the  feelings  of 
half  a  century,  and  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  different,  in 
any  material  respect,  from  what  I  was  when  I  went  to  Col- 
lege at  Glasgow,  in  1790.  I  ought  to  be  ashamed,  I  sup- 
pose, at  not  having  improved  more  in  that  long  time ;  but 
I  cannot  help  it.  Do  you  think  any  thing  can  be  done  for 
me  yet  ?  &c.  • 

I  do  not  get  on  very  well  with  my  work,  and  am  afraid 
this  half  Craigcrook  life  is  against  it,  though  I  should 
grudge  abridging  it  for  C.'s  sake  and  Dolly's ;  both  are  so 
•well  there,  and  enjoy  it  so  much,  &c. 

I  have  been  in  Exchequer  till  near  four,  and  have 
scarcely  time  to  do  what  is  needful ;  so,  with  kindest  love 
to  all  your  loving  household,  believe  me  also  your  loving 
friend. 

151. — To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Saturday,  27th  June,  1840. 

You  know  that  no  man  can  well  care  less  for  the  pre- 
tensions of  churches,  or  be  less  disposed  to  abet  them  than 
I  am ;  and  if  it  .were  a  mere  question  of  church  against 
patrons  or  judges,  my  dispositions  would  rank  me  on  the 
side  of  the  latter.  But  it  is  from  my  strong  impression 
of  the  social  and  political  mischiefs  which  this  unconcilia- 
tory  spirit  is  likely  to  breed,  that  I  very  deeply  deplore 
any  thing  that  tends  to  excite  it.  If  the  advocates  of 
Intrusion,  or  those  who  are  now  so  called,  are  permitted 
to  go  on,  the  result  will  be  the  secession,  from  the  Esta- 
blished Church,  of  the  better  half  (in  all  senses)  of  its  pre- 
sent pastors,  and,  probably,  as  large  a  proportion  of  their 
flocks.  There  are  already  more  than  a  fourth  of  the 
population  in  the  ranks  of  Presbyterian  dissent,  and  if 
this  result  occurs,  they  will  be  a  decided  majority,  and  the 
Established  Church,  drawing  all  the  tithes  and  monopo- 
lising the  whole  benefices,  will  be  the  church  of  a  minority, 
as  in  Ireland.  The  effect  of  such  a  state  of  things  on 


•252  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  peace  and  temper  of  the  people,  we  have  only  to  look 
to  that  country  to  learn.  And  here,  the  same  conse- 
quences would  infallibly  follow,  with  increased  discontent 
and  heartburning,  from  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  the 
schism  was  produced,  not  by  any  radical  and  irreconcilable 
difference  of  creed,  but  solely  for  the  sake  of  maintaining 
the  civil,  and  utterly  worthless,  rights  6f  a  few  lay  patrons 
in  their  harshest  and  most  unmitigated  form.  It  will  not 
do  to  mock  at  follies  leading  to  such  consequences  as 
those.  God  bless  you. — Ever  affectionately  yours. 

152.— To  Mrs.  C.  Innes. 

Dunkeld,  Thursday  Night, 

13th  August,  1840. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Innes — I  wrote  to  you  last  Saturday,  and 
here  I  am  writing  to  you  again,  not  because  I  have  any 
thing  very  interesting  to  tell  you,  but  (I  suppose)  because 
I  am  some  sixty  miles  nearer  you  than  I  was  then,  and  so 
more  under  the  influence  of  the  elective  affinities.-  Then 
it  is  such  beautiful  weather  in  these  northern  latitudes  of 
ours,  and  all  the  rest  have  gone  to  their  lazy  beds  and  left 
me  alone  in  this  splendid  parlour  of  the  Bridge  Inn,  with 
the  broad  Tay  shining  like  quicksilver  before  its  windows, 
under  the  loveliest  and  brightest  moon  you  ever  saw,  hang- 
ing over  dark  mountains  and  gray  cathedrals  among  dark 
woods. 

Well,  we  left  Craigcrook  on  Tuesday  with  Dolly,*  and 
Witchy,f  and  Dover,!  and  Peter,  and  dropped  Aunt  Bee§ 
at  Queensferry,  where  I  plucked  a  sweet-pea  from  your 
deserted  garden,  and  came  on  well  to  Perth,  where  we 
walked  on  the  Inch,  and  admired  the  fair  trampers  dancing 
in  their  tubs,  on  the  edge  of  the  twilight  river,  and  the 
salmon  fishers,  with  their  red  wizard  looking  lights,  in  their 
creaking  cobles.  Then  had  an  excellent  dinner,  after  which 

*  His  eldest  grand-daughter.  f  A  little  dog. 

J  A  servant  \  Mr.  Innes's  sister. 


TO    MRS.  INNES.  253 

I  aired  myself  on  the  lonely  bridge,  and  saw  the  moon  rise 
majestically  behind  the  darkness  of  Kinnoull  Hill ;  and 
then  we  all  lounged  at  our  quiet  back  windows,  listening  to 
the  soft  roar  of  the  stream,  and  admiring  the  sweet  effect 
of  the  moonlight  on  the  long  stretch  of  pale  arched,  with 
the  sheety  water  beyond.  After  breakfast  yesterday  we 
drove  out  to  Kinfauns,  which  is  really  a  finer  thing,  both 
for  pictures  and  collections  within,  and  scenery  without, 
than  I  had  recollected  it.  And  on  our  return  set  off  for 
this  prettiest  of  all  places,  where  we  arrived  before  four 
o'clock,  and  soon  enough  to  have  a  most  delightful  walk 
for  two  or  three  miles  up  the  river,  on  the  Inver  side,  which 
I  have  always  thought  the  most  beautiful,  besides  being 
free  from  the  vexation  of  stupid  guides  and  paltry  locked 
gates,  things  which  disturb  my  enjoyment  of  sweet  places 
so  much,  that  I  rather  think  I  shall  not  expose  myself  to 
their  plague  while  I  am  here. 

To-day  we  left  Dolly  to  take  her  ease  in  her  inn,  (and  to 
improve  her  acquaintance  with  a  very  sociable  kitten  and 
a  most  solemn  cat,  which  divide  her  affections  between 
them,)  and  drove  up  to  Killiecrankie,  where  we  got  out  of 
the  carriage  and  walked  down  by  the  bridge  and  the  old 
Blair  road,  which  give  you  the  only  good  views  of  that  most 
magnificent  ravine,  and  then  drove  back  here  again,  through 
the  grounds  of  Faskally,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  close  by 
the  windows  of  its  fine  new  house.  You  know  all  these 
places,  do  not  you  ?  If  you  do,  you  will  think  this  list  of 
them  a  very  dull  piece  of  prose;  and  if  ,you  do  not,  you 
will  not  be  much  the  wiser  for  reading  it.  I  have  not  been 
at  Killiecrankie  for  twenty  years,  I  believe. 

I  hope  you  continue  to  like  Knockomie  (how  came  it  by 
so  strange  a  name?).  But  you  do  not  tell  me  how  long 
you  are  to  stay  there,  nor  where  you  are  to  go  when  you 
leave  it,  nor  how  Innes  has  been  received  in  his  kingdom,* 


*  Mr.  Innes  had  recently  been  made  Sheriff  of  Morayshire. 
VOL.  II.— 22 


LIFE    OF   LOKD   JEFFREY. 

nor  whether  he  bears  his  faculties  meekly,  nor  whether  he 
has  held  any  courts,  or  dismissed  any  substitutes,  or  con- 
victed any  culprits,  nor  whether  you  get  any  bribes  to  use 
your  influence  with  him  to  prevent  the  course  of  justice, 
nor  whether  you  are  going  to  Kilravock,  nor  in  what  you 
feel  changed  when  you  compare  yourself  of  yore,  in  your 
childish  days,  with  yourself  of  the  day  that  is.  Lady 

,  I  take  it,  is  much  more  changed  in  the  interval 

than  you  are.  I  am  glad  you  like  —  — ,  for  it  is  always 
happy  and  right  to  love  where  we  can.  But  she  will  need 
mending,  I  suspect,  before  she  is  thoroughly  amiable.  For 
my  part,  I  have  no  notion  of  any  child  being  agreeable 
whose  predominant  impression  is  not  that  of  its  own  insig- 
nificance except  as  an  object  of  affection.  And  pray  do 
not  imbibe  any  of  its  mother's  little  amertume;  entertain- 
ing as  it  sometimes  is.  It  hardens  the  heart,  and  proceeds 
most  commonly  from  a  heart  which  disappointment  has 
hardened  already.  I  am  afraid  this  is  its  true  source,  poor 
thing,  with  her ;  and  though  one  cannot  but  pity  and  wish 
to  see  it  dispelled  by  returning  happiness,  it  must  be  owned 
not  to  be  the  most  blessed  of  the  fruits  of  affliction.  May 
you,  my  dear  child,  have  none  of  them  to  reap,  even  of  a. 
milder  relish !  We  set  out  on  our  return  to-morrow,  and 
run  to  sleep  at  Kinross,  and  get  early  to  Craigcrook  on 
Sunday,  and  on  Tuesday  we  go,  for  the  rest  of  the  week, 
to  Ayrshire. 

It  is  rather  colder  to-day,  and  I  have  a  little  clear  fire 
gleaming  opposite  to  the  moon  and  the  bright  river.  We 
have  the  Irish  stories  and  a  volume  of  Shakspeare  with  us, 
but  have  not  read  a  great  deal.  I  am  afraid  your  studies, 
too,  will  be  interrupted  by  your  rambling. 

Though  we  have  been  living  a  most  abstemious  life,  and 
always  in  the  open  air,  I  am  as  dyspeptic  as  a  lazy  alder- 
man. Some  sportsmen  left  young  grouse  for  us  this  fore- 
uooti.  Has  Innes  done  any  murder  among  those  innocents  ? 


TO    MR.  RJCHARDSON.  255 

and  now  good  night,  and  with  love  to  all  around  you. — 
Believe  me  always,  very  affectionately  yours. 

153. —  To  John  Richardson,  Esq. 

Hayleybury,  Thursday,  15th  October,  1840. 

My  dear  Richardson^Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letter 
and  invitation.  Few  things  would  give  us  more  pleasure 
than  coming  to  you  at  Kirklands.  But  our  days  are  now 
so  numbered  that  we  must  not  let  ourselves  think  of  it  for 
the  present,  &c. 

Though  we  cannot  meet,  however,  at  Kirklands  in  Oc- 
tober, we  shall,  I  hope,  before  Christmas,  in  Edinburgh. 
When  the  leaves  are  all  gone,  and  your  darling  trees  have 
given  over  growing  for  the  season,  you  will  be  able  to  tear 
yourself  from  your  shades,  and  if  Hopey  and  her  sister  can 
be  persuaded  to  come  sooner,  we  shall  be  most  happy  to 
see  them  without  you. 

We  have  had  the  most  lovely  ten  days  that  I  ever  re- 
member, and  I  hope  this  second  summer  is  not  yet  over. 
I  have  often  heard  of  fine  Octobers,  but  I  do  not  think  I 
ever  saw  one  before,  and  we  have  enjoyed  it  thoroughly  in 
this  quiet,  retired,  and  beautiful  country,  which  hides  in 
its  recesses  more  fine  woodland  scenery,  and  even  more 
lovely  and  magnificent  residences  than  are  dreamed  of  by 
those  who  merely  pass  along  the  highways.  We  returned 
only  yesterday  from  a  four  days'  run  to  Cambridge  and 
Ely,  where  we  were  entertained  with  academical  sumptuous- 
ness,  and  delighted  with  the  palace-like  colleges,  and 
venerable  and  gigantic  elms,  to  say  nothing  of  the  smooth 
sliding  and  silvery  Cain,  and  its  many  Venetian-looking 
bridges,  buttressed  by  vast  umbrageous  weeping  willows. 
We  are  going  to-day  to  St.  Albans,  to  kneel  at  the  shrine 
of  Bacon,  and  see  the  statue  over  his  grave.  On  Saturday 
we  all  go  to  London,  and  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  the 
Edinburgh  party  must  take  the  rail  to  Lancaster ;  and  so 
passes  the  glory  of, the  world;  and  another  season  of  en- 


LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

joyment  is  struck  off  the  small  remnant  tlmt  is  left  for  us. 
No  matter ;  we  should  not  be  troubled  at  these  things,  and 
though  the  thought  of  them  does  come  more  frequently  to 
my  mind,  I  am  not  sensible  that  they  bring  with  them,  or 
leave  behind  any  gloom  or  apprehension.  Your  estimate 
of  life,  my  dear  friend,  is  the  true  one,  and  its  best  enjoy- 
ment I  really  believe  is,  when  ambition  has  run  its  course, 
and  anxiety  for  worldly  success  is  at  an  end,  provided 
always  that  there  is  tolerable  health,  and  objects  of  love 
around  us,  &c. — Ever  very  affectionately  yours. 

154. — To  Mn.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  6th  December,  1840. 

I  have  been  down  at  the  Duke's  pier  with  Rutherfurd, 
and  so  have  only  time  for  a  word  to-day  again.  But  I 
cannot  deprive  you  of  my  Sunday  blessing,  and  all  its 
blessed  effects.  May  it  be  realized  and  perpetuated  on 
you,  and  all'  that  are  dear  to  you,  for  ever  !  I  have  not 
passed  the  whole  day  profanely  either  ;  for,  after  your  mo- 
ther and  Aunt  Bee  went  to  church,  I  read  for  a  good  hour 
in  the  life  of  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  with  much  interest  and 
edification.  Did  I  not  tell  you,  that  my  poor  hopeless 
Shetland  poetess  had  at  last  found  a  refuge  in  the  house 
of  a  pious  lady  at  Hackney  (I  think,  or  Stoke  Newing- 
ton  ?)  Well,  this  good  lady,  hearing  from  her  protegee  of 
my  good  deeds  to  her  in  former  days,  has  indited  a  very 
primitive  and  sweet  letter  to  me,  and  begged  my  accep- 
tance of  a  copy  of  the  life  of  the  said  Dr.  A.  Clarke,  who 
was  her  father;  which  I  received  gratefully,  and  am  pe- 
rusing, I  hope,  not  without  profit — I  am  sure  not  without 
pleasure.  He  was  not  a  man  of  powerful  understanding, 
rather  the  reverse,  and  occasionally  very  dreamy  and  ab- 
surd ;  but  of  apostolical  simplicity  and  purity,  and  with 
the  zeal  and  devotedness,  not  only  of  an  apostle,  but  a 
martyr.  And  he  meets  with  so  many  good  and  kind  peo- 
ple, and  is  himself  so  gentle  and  modest  and  candid,  that 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  257 

it  does  one  good  to  go  through  all  his  benevolent  and  en- 
thusiastic twaddle  ;  though  a  learned  man  also.  And  so 
God  bless  you  always,  my  beloved  infant.  Your  mother 
is 'to  write.  But  Sorley  is  perfect  still,  without  blemish 
and  without  spot. — Ever  yours. 

155. — To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Wednesday,  16th  December,  1840. 
I  have  read  Harriet's*  first  volume,  and  give  in  my  ad- 
hesion to  her  Black  Prince,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul. 
The  book  is  really  not  only  beautiful  and  touching,  but 
noble;  and  I  do  not  recollect  when  I  have  been  more 
charmed,  both  by  very  sweet  and  eloquent  writing,  glow- 
ing description,  and  elevated  as  well  as  tender  sentiments. 
To  be  sure,  I  do  not  at  all  believe  that  the  worthy  people 
(or  any  of  them)  ever  spoke  or  acted  as  she  has  so  grace- 
fully represented  them ;  and  must  confess,  that,  in  all  the 
striking  scenes,  I  entirely  forgot  their  complexion,  and 
drove  the  notion  of  it  from  me  as  often  as  it  recurred. 
But  this  does  not  at  all  diminish,  but  rather  increases,  the 
merit  of  her  creations.  Toussaint  himself,  I  suppose, 
really  was  an  extraordinary  person ;  though  I  cannot  be- 
lieve that  he  actually  was  such  a  combination  of  Scipio  and 
Cato,  and  Fenelon  and  Washington,  as  she  seems  to  have 
made  him  out.  Is  the  Henri  Christophe  of  her  story  the 
royal  correspondent  of  Wilberforce  in  1818  ?  His  letters, 
though  amiable,  are  twaddly  enough.  The  book,  however, 
is  calculated  to  make  all  its  readers  better,  and  does  great 
honour  to  the  heart,  as  well  as  the  talent  and  fancy,  of  the 
author.  I  would  go  a  long  way  now  to  kiss  the  hem  of 
her  garment,  or  the  hand  that  delineated  this  glowing  and 
lofty  representation  of  purity  and  noble  virtue.  And  she 
must  not  only  be  rescued  from  all  debasing  anxieties  about 
her  subsistence,  but  be  placed  in  a  station  of  affluence  and 

*  Miss  Martineau's  Hour  and  The  Man. 

22»  B 


258  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

honour,  though  I  believe  she  truly  cares  for  none  of  these 
tilings.  It  is  sad  to  think  that  she  suffers  from  ill  health, 
ami  may  even  be  verging  to  dissolution.  God  forbid. 
Tarley*  is  quite  well.  She  has  been  going  about  all  day, 
like  the  bride  of  Thor,  with  a  great  banner  in  her  hand, 
and  sat  with  me  over  an  hour,  cradled  in  my  great  chair, 
and  listening  to  my  vivid  descriptions  of  the  lions,  bears, 
tigers,  and  antelopes,  whose  effigies  we  turned  over  before 
us.  She  is  very  easily  amused  and  engrossed  with  any  oc- 
cupation she  takes  to,  and  applies  to  it  seriously  and  pa- 
tiently for  a  long  time  together,  just  as  you  would  do  to  a 
code. 

156. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Saturday,  21st  December,  1840. 
Bless  your  kind  heart!  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I 
was  moved  by  your  account  of  Whitey's  report  of  the 
groups  she  saw  in  the  hospital,  and  the  thoughts  they  bred 
in  you.  Keep  that  kind,  thoughtful  Scotch  heart  always, 
and  do  not  let  London,  or  JPaley,  or  Dolly,  or  any  thing, 
dissipate,  or  philosophize,  or  seduce  you  out  of  it.  It  is  a 
Scotch  heart  I  will  maintain  against  all  the  world — mean- 
ing that  such  thoughts  and  feelings  are  far  more  commpn 
in  Scotland  than  among  the  English,  and  sink  deeper  into 
the  character.  You  will  not  find  one  English  servant  in 
a  hundred  who  would  have  observed  and  felt  what  Whitey 
(who  is  not  naturally  contemplative  or  melting)  reported 
of  that  visitation,  though  most  of  them  might  be  prettier 
behaved,  and  more  prompt  with  expressions  of  sympathy 
towards  their  mistresses.  So  much  for  my  nationality,  in 
which  I  count  on  your  concurrence.  This  is  the  shortest 
day  by  the  calendar,  but  has  been  half  an  hour  longer  than 
any  we  have  seen  for  the  last  three  weeks,  owing  to  its 
sun,  and  strange  brightness.  It  has  been  all  day  as  clear 
as  crystal,  and  with  lovely  skyish  distances.  I  was  re- 

*  His  grand-daughter  Charlotte. 


TO   MRS.  EMPSON.  259 

duced  to  admire  its  last  glares  through  my  lantern  lights 
in  the  court ;  from  which,  after  disposing  of  seventy-four 
wrangling  motions,  I  did  not  get  away  till  after  two,  and 
then  I  drove  down,  with  your  mother  to  Granton  Pier, 
where  we  walked  about  till  the  sun  sank  beyond  Benledi, 
and  then  peeped  into  the  Clarence  steamer,  which  was  his- 
sing, and  packing,  and  screaming  at  the  quay,  and  really 
looked  both  splendid  and  inviting,  with  its  spacious  cabins, 
bright  fires,  and  broad  mirrors.  For  a  moment  I  felt 
tempted  to  throw  myself  down  on  one  of  the  sofas,  and 
let  myself  be  drifted  off  to  the  Thames !  Would  it  not 
have  been  a  nice  lark,  now,  if  we  had  popped  in  upon  you 
on  Monday  evening,  without  bag  or  baggage,  pence  in  our 
pockets,  or  shirts  to  our  backs  ?  And  what  a  sensation, 
and  hue  and  cry,  all  over  Edinburgh,  when  we  were 
missed  !  But  I  thought  of  my  arrear  of  unsettled  judg- 
ments, and  so  skipped  ashore  again,  and  walked  back  to 
my  post  of  duty.  Thermometer  was  yesterday  at  53.  Re- 
member that  when  the  longest  day  comes,  I  think  it  has  a 
fair  chance  to  be  colder.  To-day  it  is  not  so  high — only 
about  48 ;  but  still  it  is  very  fine.  Your  mother  had  a 
visit  from  Geo.  Napier's  lady,  and  says  he  looks  firmer  and 
better,  and  talks  of  himself  more  cheerfully  than  she  has 
known  him  do  for  years.  Fullerton  is  off  this  afternoon 
to  Carstairs,  and  Rutherfurd  to-morrow  to  Airthrey  for 
two  days.  He  will  see  no  more  of  our  court,  I  take  it,  till 
next  November,  as  he  must  be  up  with  you  before  we  meet 
again,  and  so  will  lose  between  .£2000  and  .£3000,  though 
salary  and  appeals  will  partly  replace  it.  God  bless  you, 
my  dearest  dear. — Ever  yours. 

157. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Kendall,  Wednesday  evening,  2d  March,  i641. 
Here  you  see,  and  all  safe  and  sound,  Dolly  rolling  and 
tumbling  on  the  carpet  as  fresh  as  a  rose,  and  as  nimble 
as  a  marmozet.     She  behaved  rather  better  to-day,  slept 


260  LIFE   OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

more,  and  certainly  cried  less ;  and  when  awake  and  not 
ingurgitating,  on  the  whole  very  good  company.  Her 
principal  plaything  was  my  head,  to  bo  brushed  and  tickled 
with  the  hair  of  it,  and  then  to  clutch  first  at  my  ears, 
and  then  at  my  nose  and  eyes,  and  finally  to  thrust  her 
whole  hand  into  my  mouth  to  be  bitten,  and  then  to  begin 
all  over  again  with  roars  of  laughter.  We  have  come  on 
excellently  to-day,  with  the  help  of  four  horses  to  be  sure, 
for  the  worst  twenty  odd  miles  of  the  way,  and  not  stop- 
ping for  luncheon.  We  got  in  half-past  five,  and  might 
have  gone  on  to  Lancaster.  But  as  we  do  not  mean  to 
take  the  night  mail  to-morrow,  it  is  better  for  us  all  not  to 
hurry  ;  and  having  bespoken  beds  and  dinner,  it  would  not 
have  been  genteel  to  have  run  away  from  them ;  and  an 
admirable  dinner  we  have  had  in  the  ancient  King's  Arms — 
with  great  oaken  staircases — uneven  floors — and  very  thin 
oak  pannel — plaster-filled  outer  walls,  but  capital  new  furni- 
ture, and  the  brightest  glass,  linen,  spoons,  and  china  you 
ever  saw.  It  is  the  same  house  in  which  I  once  slept  about 
fifty  years  ago,  with  the  whole  company  of  an  ancient 
stage-coach,  which  bedded  its  -passengers  three  times  on 
the  way  from  Edinburgh  to  London,  and  called  them  up 
by  the  waiter  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  go  five  slow 
stages,  and  then  have  an  hour  to  breakfast  and  wash.  It 
is  the  only  vestige  I  remember  of  those  old  ways,  and  I 
have  not  slept  in  the  house  since.  It  certainly  looks  gayer 
internally  now.  Langholm  was  actually  covered  with  snow 
when  we  looked  out  in  the  morning,  and  I  had  misgivings 
about  Shapfells.  But  the  snow  left  us  in  a  twinkling 
within  four  miles  of  our  starting,  and  we  saw  no  more  of 
it  till  we  got  to  the  said  Fells  ;  and  even  there,  there  were 
but  sprinklings  and  patches.,  and  not  a  grain  on  the  road, 
which  was  plated  for  our  last  twenty  miles  yesterday. 
This  is  a  great  Quaker  town  you  know ;  but  when  I  walked 
while  they  were  getting  dinner,  I  could  not  see  a  single 
broad  brim,  or  sad  coloured  coat ;  and  on  asking  the  waiter 


TO    MRS.   INNES.  261 

whether  there  were  any  Quakers  left,  he  said,  «  0 !  dear, 
Sir,  all  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  place  are  Quakers; 
but  they  are  all  at  home  dining  now,  Sir,  and  you  would 
only  see  mechanics  and  such  like."  This  I  think  is  edify- 
ing ;  only  I  should  have  wished  to  have  shown  Dolly  a 
right  home-bred  Quaker.  We  have  only  forty-five  miles 
to-morrow,  and  though  there  are  light  shakings  of  hail 
through  the  calm  air,  I  think  we  may  reckon  on  housing 
at  the  Victoria,  even  earlier  than  to-day,  and  finding  a 
line  from  you  too — may  we  not  ? 

God  bless  you,  my  love.  But  stop — before  ending  let 
me  say  that  I  wish  you  would  let  Dr.  Ferguson  see  Dolly 
the  day  after  she  comes,  and  before  you  actually  dismiss 
her  milk  can.  She  sucks  so  much,  that  I  have  a  little  fear 
of  the  consequences  of  too  sudden  and  peremptory  an  ab- 
lactation; and  Ferguson  is  undoubtedly  a  first  authority 
in  such  a  questron.  If  she  was  to  put  herself  into  a  fever, 
or  get  some  alarming  disorder  in  stomach  or  bowels,  you 
would  never  forgive  yourself  for  having  acted  rashly,  and 
her  temperament  is  irritable  enough  to  have  some  risk  of 
this  kind.  Good  advice  is  always  cheap  when  it  can  be 
lawfully  and  surely  bought. 

• 
158.— To  Mrs.  0.  Innes. 

21  Wimpole  Street, 
Saturday,  llth  April,  1841. 

I  begin  to  fear,  from  your  not  taking  any  notice  of  me, 
that  you  found  no  amusement  in  my  diary  of  dissipation, 
and  are  beginning  to  despise  me,  as  one  whose  heart  is  set 
upon  vanities.  But  pray,  do  not !  for  it  was  never  more 
in  the  way  of  being  sick  of  them,  or  had  more  longings 
after  a  more  tranquil  existence,  and  the  soothing  appliances 
of  proved  and  reliable  affection.  Why,  then,  you  will  say, 
do  I  persist  in  those  idle  courses  ?  and  go  out  twice  or 
three  times  (for  there  is  a  fashion  of  late,  long  and  loqua- 
cious, breakfasts  come  up,  to  complete  the  occupations  of 


262  LIFE   OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  day)  every  day  I  live  ?  Why,  do  you  say,  my  gentle 
monitress  of  the  shore  ?  Why,  partly,  because  people  ask 
me,  and  it  is  difficult  to  refuse ;  partly,  because  though  it 
often  wearies  and  disappoints  me,  it  often  amuses  also ; 
partly,  because  one  is  curious  to  see,  and  talk  to  persons 
of  whom  one  has  heard  a  great  deal ;  partly,  because  I  am 
more  or  less  flattered  by  being  noticed  among  lea  ctlebritte; 
and  because  I  expect,  and  am  sure  indeed  on  many  occa- 
sions, to  learn  things  worth  knowing  in  these  circles,  and 
sure,  at  all  events,  to  get  true  impressions  of  the  actual 
tone,  temper,  and  habits,  of  the  upper  society ;  but  chiefly, 
and  in  good  earnest,  because  I  think  I  am  laying  in  stores 
to  enlarge  and  diversify  the  recollections,  conversations, 
and  reflections  of  more  sober  and  rational  hours,  and  ena- 
bling myself  to  judge  better  of  the  value  of  the  rumours 
and  reputation,  that  extend  to  the  provinces,  than  anybody 
can  do  who  has  scarcely  been  out  of  them,  or  carries  a 
provincial  atmosphere  with  him  even  into  London.  It  is 
from  this  rebound  indeed,  more  than  from  the  first  im- 
pression, that  I  expect  the  chief  pleasure  of  my  present 
experiences,  &c. — Yours,  very  affectionately. 

»     159.— To  Mrs.  C.  Innes. 

21  Wimpole  Street, 
Friday,  25th  April,  1841. 

A  thousand  thanks  for  your  innocent  happy  letter,  and 
for  your  violets,  which  came  with  all  the  sweetness  of  the 
rocky  shore  on  them.  We  have  lots  here  from  Covent 
Garden,  which  are  sweet  enough  too,  but  they  do  not 
breathe  like  those  of  free  waves,  and  sea-born  breezes,  and 
I  have  not  the  heart  to  send  you  any  thing  so  townish.  I 
am  glad,  too,  that  you  are  going  the  circuit,  and  hope  you 
will  not  lose  heart  about  it,  but  go,  even  if  Monday  morn- 
ing should  be  lowering  and  the  babes  come  clucking  under 
your  wings.  Inverary  is  sr.  beautiful !  and  the  best  view 
of  all  is  from  the  window  of  the  old  large  inn;  and  per- 


TO   MRS.    INNES.  263 

haps  you  will  go  over  to  Strachur  too,  and  go  up  to  Glen- 
branta,  high  up,  if  you  please,  a  mile  or  more  above  the 
house,  and  turning  to  the  right  hand,  and  not  to  the  left. 

It  is  sweet  weather  still  here,  and  all  the  young  woods, 
and  even  the  old  horse-chestnuts  have  started  into  leaf, 
and  the  nightingales  into  song,  as  if  at  a  word  of  command. 
And  yet  we  are  dying  for  rain,  and  should  be  most  thankful 
for  what  I  doubt  not  you  will  have  to  spare  in  that  way 
before  your  western  ramble  is  completed.  The  horses 
riding  over  the  turf  in  the  park  send  up  clouds  of  dust 
from  their  heels,  as  if  from  an  unwatered  road,  and  all  the 
gardens  are  like  Arabian  deserts.  There  is  no  memory  of 
such  a  season,  or  of  an  April  without  showers.  And  now 
will  you  have  more  journal?  It  is  very  kind  in  you  to 
say  that  it  amuses  you.  But  if  it  does,  I  am  sure  I  should 
be  very  shabby  if  I  grudged  you  an  amusement  which 
costs  me  so  little.  Where  were  we  at?  ,  Had  I  told  you  of 
our  Good  Friday  dinner,  at  home,  with  Lords  Denman  and 
Monteagle,  and  Wrightson,  (all  schoolfellows  of  Empson's,) 
and  W.'s  wife,  and  Charlotte's  brother-in-law  Golden  from 
America?  and  (how  we  were  very  natural  and  social,  and 
passed  a  long  evening  very  pleasantly?  On  Saturday  we 
were  all  at  Macaulay's  with  the  French  minister,  Rogers, 
Hallain,  Mount  S.  Elphinstone,  Austin,  &c.  Sunday  I  had 
a  sweet  long  ramble  with  Charley  in  Regent's  Park,  and 
sat  in  gentle  discourse  with  her  for  more  than  an  hour  on 
those  upland  seats  which  look  over  to  Highgate  and  Hamp- 
stead,  and  are  so  fresh  and  airy.  I  dined  afterward  at 
Holland  House  with  rather  a  large  party. 

I  sat  by  Q.  Buller  and  Lady  S.  and  Lord  Holland  and 
T.  D.  next;  and  I  rather  think,  from  the  look  of  the  rest 
of  the  party,  that  we  had  the  best  of  it.  Indeed  it  is 
always  the  best  luck  to  be  near  Lord  Holland ;  and  I  never 
saw  him  more  agreeable.  Monday  I  had  a  nice  quiet  fa- 
mily party  with  the  Mintos  at  the  Admiralty.  They  are 
always  so  gay  and  natural.  And  I  was  so  glad  to  see  Lady 


264  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

Mary  again,  who  was  A  sort  of  love  of  mine  before  her 
marriage,  or  rather  before  their  going  abroad  in  1834; 
since  which  time  I  have  never  seen  her.  She  is  altered  in 
appearance,  having  in  fact  been  very  unwell ;  but  has  re- 
tained the  same  gentle,  unselfish,  thoughtful  cheerfulness, 
which  I  used  to  think  so  charming.  She  goes  to  Florence 
with  her  husband  in  the  course  of  next  month.  Tuesday 
we  all  drove  down  to  see  the  humours  of  a  Greenwich  fair, 
which  I  had  not  seen  for  more  than  twenty  years;  and 
some  of  the  rest  not  at  all.  It  was  a  sweet  day;  and  the 
walk  in  the  park,  and  under  the  porticos  and  terraces  of 
that  palatial  hospital,  was  the  best  of  it.  The  groups  of 
children,  chasing  apples  and  oranges  down  the  green  slopes 
under  these  grand  chestnuts,  together  with  the  odd  dry 
outbreaks  of  hot  gravel,  and  the  broad  gleamy  river,  stud- 
ded with  all  sorts  of  vessels,  mixed  with  the  domes  and 
pillars  of  the  building,  and  the  pinnacles  of  the  Observa- 
tory, brought  me  strongly  in  mind  of  the  Panorama  of 
Benares  and  the  Ganges,  which  I  had  seen,  with  great  ad- 
miration, the  day  before.  But  I  shall  never  get  on,  if  I 
go  into  descriptions.  I  dined  afterwards  at  Sergeant  Tal- 
fourd's,  &c.  °y  .  '.  f.if  . 

Wednesday  we  all  drove  out  to  Holland  House,  and  had  a 
sweet  walk  under  the  cedars  and  in  the  garden,  where  we 
listened  in  vain  for  the  nightingales;  though  both  Lord  H. 
and  Allen  challenged  them  to  answer,  by  divers  fat  and 
asthmatical  whistles.  We  then  dined  at  Rogers's,  with 
Lady  C.  Lindsay,  Sidney  Smith,  Mount  S.  Elphinstone, 
D.  Dundas,  and  two  more  good  men.  The  talk  was  more 
placid  and  gentle  than  usual;  owing,  as  I  maintained,  to 
the  soft  darkness  of  the  room,  which  was  only  lighted  by 
the  reflection  of  shaded  lamps,  stuck  against  the  pictures ; 
and  I  liked  it  better  than  the  eternal  snap  and  flash  of 

,  and  the  terse  studied  aphorisms  of .     Yesterday 

I  paid  a  long  round  of  suburban  visits, — Lord  Dillon,  Mrs. 
Austin,  Lady  Callcot',  and  the  Macleods, — on  foot,  and 


TO   LORD    COCKBUEN.  265 

came  home  delightfully  hot  and  tired.  Then  \ve  all  drove, 
through  a  golden  afternoon,  to  dine  with  the  Lansdownes 
at  Richmond.  They  have  a  most  beautiful  villa,  just 
below  the  Star  and  Garter,  and  commanding  the  same 
view,  with  a  lovely  sloping  garden  quite  down  to  the  water, 
full  of  roses  and  nightingales,  and  all  sorts  of  fragrant 

shrubs.  : 

We  came  home  in  the  sweetest  starlight,  which  we  saw 
clearly  reflected  in  the  sheety  Thames,  which  made  me 
think  of  your  broader  and  more  pellucid  views  at  the 
Ferry.  To-day  the  ther.  is  71,  and  the  sky  still  without 
a  cloud.  We  dine  at  Stephen's,  the  author  of  that  paper 
about  enthusiasm  which  I  advised  you  to  read,  but  scarcely 
hope  you  will  like.  To  say  truth,  I  cannot  find  anybody 
to  like  it  but  myself.  But  it  certainly  suits  my  idiosyn- 
crasy (what  do  you  think  that  is  now?)  singularly;  and  I 
am  sure  it  is  more  like  Plato,  both  in  its  lofty  mysticism, 
and  its  sweet  and  elegant  style,  than  any  thing  of  modern 
date.  Perhaps  Innes  may  read  it  on  this  recommenda- 
tion :  the  latter  half  is  by  far  the  best.  And  now  God 
bless  you !  I  have  brought  up  my  sad  confessions  once 
more  to  the  ignorant  present  time,  and  I  daresay  you  are 
tired  of  them.  In  another  week  my  round  of  folly  will  be 
completed,  and  you  shall  have  the  poor  sequel  with  a 
sketch  of  my  Hayleybury  retreat,  waiting  for  you  on  your 
return,  if  you  do  not  instruct  me  where  I  could  forward  it 
to  you  on  your  progress.  Do  you  encounter  the  bugs  and 
gas  of  a  Glasgow  hotel  ?  I  should  think  not,  and  then 
you  will  be  home  sooner.  Write  me  at  all  events  from 
Inverary. — Ever  affectionately  yours. 

160.— To  Lord  CocJcburn. 

8  Hind  Street,  4th  May,  1841. 

My  dear  C. — I  am  farther  gone  than  ever  in  dissipa- 
tion, and  its  concomitant  vices — of  laziness,  neglect  of  all 
social  duties,  and  utter  want  of  leisure  for  the  very  neces- 

VOL.  II.— 23 


266  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

sities  of  existence ;  so  that  I  cannot  afford  to  give  even 
you  the  merest  outline  of  a  chronicle,  such  as  I  used  to 
furnish  in  the  days  of  my  (comparative)  innocence,  of  the 
cause  and  progress  of  this  scandalous  dissipation.  It  may 
be  enough,  however,  to  entitle  me  to  the  prayers  of  all 
just  men,  to  know  that  I  dine  out  every  day,  in  promis- 
cuous societies  of  idle  men  and  women.  After  breakfast 
in  similar  assemblies,  and  generally  during  the  evening 
•with  some  devil's  vespers  of  a  still  more  crowded,  noisy, 
and  questionable  description.  In  this  career,  too,  I  labour 
under  the  additional  scandal  of  being  alone  of  my  house ; 
the  three  Charlottes*  never  going  forth  unless  on  works 
of  necessity  or  mercy,  and  Empson  only  countenancing 
me  in  the  most  sober  and  decorous  of  my  outgoings.  The 
houses  where  I  have  been  oftenest  are  those  of  the  Widow 
Holland,  the  Canon  Sidney,  the  girl  Berrys,  the  poet 
Samuel,  and  a  few  others.  However,  I  have  been  hos- 
pitably entertained,  and  that  more  than  once,  by  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice,  and  various  others  of  her  Majesty's  judges, 
Rolfe,  Coltinan,  Alderson,  and  Parke.  Moreover,  I  have 
assisted  at  a  grand  ball  at  the  Lord  Chancellor's ;  been 
twice  invited  by  the  Master  of  Rolls,  as  well  as  by  the 
learned  the  Attorney-General.  I  have  repeatedly  met 
most  of  the  cabinet,  and  endeavoured,  though  I  cannot  say 
successfully,  to  enlighten  their  sad  ignorance  of  the  state 
and  rights  of  our  church.  On  the  whole,  I  have  had  plea- 
sant parties,  and  been  most  kindly  received  by  men, 
women,  and  children.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  the 
Listers  and  their  gay  bright-hearted  Clarendon  allies,  and 

though  I  have  renewed  my  vows  to  my  sweet  Mary , 

have  fallen  dangerously  in  love  with  that  beautiful  Mrs. 

,  who  was  joint  sponsor  with  me  last  year  for  one  of 

Dr.  Holland's  babes,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Milman,  and  a 
few  others.  I  have  been  engaged  every  day  but  one  since 

*  His  wife,  daughter,  and  grandchild. 


TO   LORD    COCKBURN.  267 

• 

I  came  up,  and  yet  regret  to  hate  been  obliged  to  decline 
invitations  to  the  Sutherlands,  Somersets,  Carlisles,  Greys, 
and  Melbournes,  to  say  nothing  of  Miss  Burdett  Coutts 
and  her  father.  To  make  amends,  however,  I  have  seen  a 
good  deal  of  Tommy  Moore,  who  is  luckily  here  on  a  visit 
like  my  own ;  of  Hallam,  who  has  returned  in  very  good 

spirits,  after  eight  months'  rustication  j    of  Little  , 

who  is  altogether  as  lively  and  less  brusque  and  dogmati- 
cal than  formerly;  and,  above  all,  of  Charles  Dickens, 
with  whom  I  have  struck  up  what  I  mean  to  be  an  eternal 
and  intimate  friendship.  He  lives  very  near  us  here,  and 
I  often  run  over  and  sit  an  hour  tete-d-tete,  or  take  a  long 
walk  in  the  park  with  him — the  only  way  really  to  know 
or  be  known  by  either  man  or  woman.  Taken  in  this 
way,  I  think  him  very  amiable  and  agreeable.  In  mixed 
company,  where  he  is  now  much  sought  after  as  a  lion,  he 
is  rather  reserved,  &c.  He  has  dined  here,  (for  Charlotte 
has  taken  to  giving  quiet  parties,)  and  we  with  him,  at 
rather  too  sumptuous  a  dinner  for  a  man  with  a  family, 
and  only  beginning  to  be  rich,  though  selling  44,000 
copies  of  his  weekly  issues,  &c.  I  have  also  repeatedly 
met  Taylor,  (Philip  Von  Artefelde.)  I  have  also  dined 
with  Talfourd,  and  had  him  here  with  us.  Have  often 
visited  my  mystical  friends  the  Carlisles ;  and  made  a  pil- 
grimage the  other  day  to  the  new  abode  of  old  George 
Thomson,*  whom  I  found  marvellously  entire,  though  af- 
fecting to  regret- his  too  late  transplantations  from  Edin- 
burgh. I  need  not  say  that  I  often  see  Richardson  and 
his  two  nice  daughters ;  and  the  Mintos,  and  all  my  old 
friends. 

Is  it  egotism  or  what  that  makes  me  tire  you  with  this 
idle  story  of  my  own  poor  experience,  without  saying  a 
word  of  the  great  public  crisis,  in  the  very  midst  of  which 
I  am  writing  ?  If  it  were  more  pleasant  or  hopeful,  I 

*  The  correspondent  of  Burns. 


LIFE    OF    LORL    JEFFREY. 

• 

suppose,  I  should  not  so  shrink  from  it.  But  I  have  no 
pleasure  in  thinking  of  it;  and  having  little  to  tell  that  13 
not  known  to  every  body,  am  not  much  inclined  to  speak. 
The  days  of  the  Whig  government  are  numbered;  and 
those  of  Tory  domination  about  to  be  resumed,  &c. 

It  is  the  sweetest  weather  in  the  world;  thermometer 
all  last  week,  with  the  exception  of  one  morning,  about 
seventy;  with  such  fresh  breezes  and  silvery  showers,  and 
such  a  flush  of  blossom  and  foliage,  that  when  I  sat  this 
morning  in  a  lonely  part  of  Kensington  Garden,  and  gazed 
on  the  unsunned  freshness  of  the  groves  around  me,  and 
listened  to  the  shrilling  larks  in  the  sky  above,  and  saw 
the  pearl-coloured  clouds  reflected  in  the  clear  sheety 
waters  at  my  feet,  I  wondered  how  a  thinking  and  feeling 
man  should  stoop  to  care  about  changes  of  ministers  or 
such  paltry  matters,  &c. 

161.— To  Mrs.  C.  Innes. 

Hayleybury,  Saturday  9th  May,  1841. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Innes — Though  we  are  but  twenty  miles 
from  London,  and  go  back  to  it  on  Monday,  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  not  seen  any  thing  of  it  for  ages,  and  look  back  al- 
ready on  my  late  course  of  dissipation  there  as  an  old 
recollection,  or  some  dream  and  imagination,  of  long  past 
days.  We  are  so  rural  and  quiet  here,  that  there  can  bo 
no  greater  contrast.  This  house  is  in  a  cluster  of  tall 
shrubs  and  young  trees,  with  a  little  bit  of  smooth  lawn 
sloping  to  a  bright  pond,  in  which  old  weeping  willows  are 
dipping  their  hair,  and  rows  of  young  pear  trees  admiring 
their  blooming  faces.  Indeed,  there  never  was  such  a  flash 
of  shadowing  high  hanging  flowers  as  we  have  around  us ; 
and  almost  all,  as  it  happens,  of  that  pure,  silvery,  snowy, 
bridal  tint;  and  we  live,  like  Campbell's  sweet  Gertrude, 
*<as  if  beneath  a  galaxy  of  overhanging  sweets,  with  blos- 
soms white."  There  are  young  horse-chestnuts  with  flowers 
half  a  yard  long,  fresh,  full- clustered,  white  lilacs,  tall 


JO    MRS.    INNES.  269 

• 
Guelder  roses,  broad-spreading  pear  and  cherry  trees,  low 

thickets  of  blooming  sloe,  and  crowds  of  juicy-looking 
detached  thorns,  quite  covered  with  their  fragrant  May 
flowers,  half  open,  like  ivory  filigree,  and  half  shut  like 
Indian  pearls,  and  all  so  fresh  and  dewy  since  the  miiky 
showers  of  yesterday ;  and  resounding  with  nightingales, 
and  thrushes,  and  sky-larks,  shrilling  high  up,  overhead, 
among  the  dazzling  slow  sailing  clouds.  Not  to  be  named, 
I  know  and  feel  as  much  as  you  can  do,  with  your  Trosachs, 
and  Loch  Lomonds,  and  Inverarys;  but  very  sweet,  and 
vernal,  and  soothing,  and  fit  enough  to  efface  all  recollec- 
tions of  hot,  swarming,  whirling,  and  bustling  London  from 
all  good  minds. 

Well,  but  you  do  not  know  that  I  have  had  (and  have 
still  in  a  manner)  a  sort  of  influenza,  which  has  kept  me 
from  doing  little  more  than  dawdling  about  the  doors,  and 
may  have  helped  to  put  all  thoughts  of  my  late  doings  out 
of  my  head.  It  came  on  two  days  before  I  left  town  with 
a  slight  trachea,  but  was  considerate  enough  not  to  plague 
me  with  any  feverish  feelings  till  I  had  fairly  got  through 
all  my  gay  engagements,  and  that  very  day  I  wrote  last 
to  you,  it  was  beginning  to  tingle  in  my  veins.  It  has 
been  but  light  however,  and  really  has  not  much  interfered 
with  my  enjoyment  of  this  sweet  season  and  soft  retreat, 
and  innocent  domestic  life,  though  I  thought  it  right  to 
have  the  college  doctor  to  wonder  at  my  admirable  treat- 
ment of  myself,  and  to  sanction  my  sal.  vols.  and  antimo- 
nials;  and  he  and  I  agreed  in  consultation  this  morning, 
that  we  have  effectually  turned  the  flank  of  the  enemy, 
and  that  he  has  begun  his  retreat.  So  we  still  hold  our 
purpose  of  going  to  town  on  Monday,  and  getting  on  the 
rail  on  Wednesday  morning.  If  we  do  not,  I  shall  pro- 
bably write  to  you  again.  I  have  had  great  comfort  ia 
reading  over  your  Inverary  letter  again,  partly  from  the 
freshness  with  which  it  brings  back  those  long  loved  moun- 
tain bays  and  promontories,  sheety  waters,  and  fragrant 

23* 


270  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

• 

birch  woods  to  my  imagination,  but  chiefly  for  the  picture 
of  your  own  pure,  simple,  light-hearted  enjoyment.  You 
know  how  prompt  a  sympathy  I  have  with  happiness  in 
almost  all  its  varieties.  But  yours  is  of  a  kind  to  attract 
me  beyond  all  others,  breathing,  as  it  does,  the  sweet 
spirit  of  youth,  and  innocence,  and  natural  taste,  and  har- 
mony, with  the  imperishable  loveliness  pf  nature.  It  is 
the  share  and  relish  for  this  which  is  still  left  me,  which 
makes  me  in  some  things  so  much  younger  than  my  years; 
but  I  am  all  the  better  for  having  it  reflected  upon  me  from 
the  hearts  of  the  really  young,  and  it  is  an  infinite  conso- 
lation to  me  to  think  that  you  are  so  young,  that  I  shall 
always  be  able  to  have  it  bright  and  undimmed  from  yours 
while  I  can  feel  or  care  for  any  thing. 

And  now,  will  you  have  the  close  of  my  town  journal  ? 
It  is  an  old  story  now,  and  I  have,  luckily,  I  believe,  for- 
gotten all  but  the  outlines.  But  here  are  the  fragments  : — 
Friday,  24th — At  Stephen's  (I  think  I  did  not  mention  that 
before)  with  Macaulay  and  Mounteagle — (0!  but  I  think 
I  remember  that  I  did  tell  you  of  that);  and  how  Macaulay 
exceeded  his  ordinary  excess  in  talk,  and  how  I  could 
scarcely  keep  him  from  pure  soliloquy,  and  how  Lord  M. 
fell  fairly  asleep,  and  our  Platonic  host  himself  nodded 
his  applause.  But  no  matter — that  was  the  truth  of  it, 
whether  told  for  the  first  or  second  time.  Saturday — I 
am  sure  I  did  not  chronicle  before,  we  were  at  Lord  Den- 
man's  with  Sidney  Smith,  Rogers,  the  Milmans,  and  that 

beautiful  Mrs.  D ,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  years,  &c. 

We  went  in  the  evening  (at  least  I  did)  to  Ba 's  great 

assembly,  where  I  was  set  upon  by  Lady ,  and  con- 
trived very  cleverly  to  introduce  her  to  Talfourd,  and  to 
leave  them  together,  and  then  fell  into  the  clutches  of  that 

crazy,  chattering  Lady ,  and  was  only  rescued  by 

the  kind  recognition  of  poor  Lady ,  who  is   quit? 

paralytic,  and  is  wheeled  through  the  room  in  a  chair,  but 
a  very  sweet-mannered,  elegant,  and  gracious  creature  still. 


TO   MRS.    INNES.  271 

I  had  talk  with  various  learned  persons,  and  walked  home 
in  the  cool  starlight. 

On  Sunday,  I  was  asked  to  be  en  famille  at  Holland 
House,   but  found  sixteen  people — foreign  ambassadors, 

and  everybody ;  but  no  ladies  but  Lady ,  who  is 

always  agreeable.  Lord  H.  was  full  of  good  talk,  and 
trusted  me  home  with  his  six  days'  journal  of  the  conver- 
sation at  his  house  in  1814,  made  as  an  experiment  of  what 
could  be  done  in  rivalry  of  Boswell's  Johnson.  It  is  very 
entertaining,  and  contains  some  capital  specimens  of  Grat- 
tan,  Parr,  Frere,  Windham,  and  Erskine ;  but  I  quite 
agree  with  him  that  it  would  not  have  been  fair  to  continue 
it.  Monday — We  had  a  party  at  home — the  Listers, 
Stephens,  Northamptons,  and  Macleods.  It  was  very  hot, 
but  came  off  perfectly,  everybody  being  in  good  humour. 
Charley  looking  very  nice,  and  getting  on  charmingly,  with 
Mr.  Elphinstone  on  one  side,  and  Lord  Northampton  on  the 
other,  with  both  of  whom  she  is  at  ease.  Tuesday — The 
two  Charlottes  and  I  were  at  Holland  House  again,  (Emp- 
son  being  obliged  to  be  at  College,)  and  again  a  large 
party.  I  had  the  honour  of  sitting  between  Lord  Mel- 
bourne and  Lord  Duncannon,  with  Lord  H.  but  one  off,  so 
we  liad  the  best  of  the  talk.  My  lady  being  between  the 
French  and  the  Prussian  ambassadors,  and  calling  often  in 
vain  for  our  assistance  on  one  side,  and  Lord  John  Russell 
on  the  other,  who  was  busy  with  C.  Buller.  The  Charlottes 
were  delighted  with  Lord  H.,  who  had  them  both  by  him, 
and.  talked  to  them  all  the  time  of  dinner  with  so  much 
gayety  and  good  humour.  My  lady  they  thought  very 
amusing  after  dinner,  and  full  of  kindness  to  them.  I  had 
some  good  talk -with  Guizot  after  coffee,  and  a  little  about 
Dr.  Alison  and  our  Scotch  poor  with  Lord  John,  and  came 
home  late.  Wednesday — We  were  all  with  Mr.  Justice  and 
Lady  Coltman,  where  we  had  Baron  Maule,  the  Attorney, 
and  Lady  S.,  and,  in  short,  rather  a  professional  party, 
with  the  exception  of  F.  Lewis,  and  Jo.  Komilly,  and  Lady 


272  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

,  who  writes  books.     Lady  C.  is  very  agreeable, 

though  a  zealous  Unitarian,  and  I  rather  think  the  only 
truly  agreeable  person  I  know  of  that  persuasion.  Thurs- 
day— A  party  again  at  home,  and  mostly  ladies.  The 
Denmans,  Richardsons,  Campbells,  &c.,  with  Baron  Rolfe, 
and  others.  It  was  very  hot  again,  and  there  were  people 
in  the  evening.  Cracrofts,  Calverts,  and  others  you  do 
not  know,  and  I  have  not  time  to  describe.  Friday — I  did 
a  great  deal  of  work — drove  out  to  the  new  Horticultural 
Gardens  at  Chiswick,  and  walked  about  among  its  blos- 
soms an  hour — came  home  in  an  open  carriage,  (and  got 
my  trachea,)  then  at  six  went  to  stand  sponsor  to  Lord 
Holland's  last  baby,  along  with  Lady  Park,  and  my  pretty 

Mrs. .     Sidney  officiated,  and  was  somehow  so  much 

moved  that  he  could  scarcely  get  through,  and  was  obliged 
to  finish  the  ceremony  sitting.  I  then  hurried  off  to  dinner 
with  the  Campbells  at  Paddington,  where  we  had  the 
Bishop  of  Llandaff  and  the  Dean  of  Carlisle,  invited  on 
purpose  to  meet  me.  So  you  see  in  what  esteem  my  or- 
thodoxy is  held  among  the  sages  of  the  south.  But  not 
to  end  the  day  too  sanctimoniously,  Empson  carried  me 
at  night  to  a  grand  city  ball,  in  Draper's  Hall;  not  a 
public  ball,  however,  but  a  rich  friend  of  his  lives  in  the 
adjoining  house,  and  got  leave  to  light  the  antique  premises 
for  his  party.  The  rooms  are  very  grand  and  imposing, 
but  being  finished  with  dark  carved  oak,  and  mostly  car- 
peted with  ancient  Turkey,  looked  rather  sombre  for  a  ball. 
However,  there  were  300  people,  and  a  grand  supper,  from 
which,  however,  we  ran  away.  It  is  one  symptom  of  the 
enormous  wealth  of  this  place,  that  a  quiet  plain  man,  who 
has  no  pretensions  to  fashion  or  display,  should  thus  spend 
.£500  on  one  night's  dull  gayety.  Saturday — We  break- 
fasted in  Regent's  Park  with  Miss  Rogers — a  most  lovely 
morning,  where  we  had  the  poet  C.  Murray,  (the  hero  of 
the  Pawnees,)  the  Milmans,  and  Sir  C.  and  Lady  Bell. 
]\Irs. was  looking  very  pretty,  -and  in  her  nice 


TO    MRS.    IXNES.  273 

bright  pale  green  gown,  and  hanging  flowers,  looked  like 
a  lily  of  the  valley  just  pushing  out  of  its  delicate  sheath. 
We  drove  afterward  and  saw  Joanna  Baillie  at  Hampstead, 
and  had  another  party  at  dinner  (I  agree  with  you  in  the 
extravagance  and  folly  of  it)  at  home.  The  Macaulays, 
and  Trevyllians,  Rogers,  Austins,  Polgraves. 

Sunday — We  went  early  to  Bushy  Park  and  Hampton 
Court — a  most  splendid  day,  though  the  east  wind  rather 
sharp  for  my  poor  trachea.  We  walked  about,  (too  long 
for  its  good,)  the  horse-chestnuts  all  in  flower,  but  the  leaves 
scarcely  fully  unfurled.  The  Hampton  Court  Gardens  are 
really  beautiful,  and  so  gay  with  well-dressed,  moral-look- 
ing, happy  people.  Empson  and  I  then  went  to  dine  with 
W.  Murray*  at  the  Temple,  where  we  had  excellent  turtle 
and  champagne — Lord  Denman,  Mr.  Elphinstone,  and  Sir 
Geo.  Philips — only  less  wine  than  usual,  and  a  long  talk  after 
coffee,  with  Elphinstone  especially,  till  my  feet  got  cold,  and 
the  trachea  took  half  my  voice- away,  when  we  came  home 
inglorious,  in  a  cab.  Monday — I  went  to  the  exhibitions, 

and  dined  at with  a  great  Yorkshire  party 

— Lord  Tyrconnel  and  spouse,  Lady  F.  Grahame,  some 
Beresfords,  a  Mrs.  Somebody  who  sat  by  me,  and  took  me 
all  the  time  of  dinner  for  the  Bishop  of  Hipon,  in  spite  of 
my  brown  coat  and  white  waistcoat,  and  laughed  like  a 
hyaena  when  she  found  out  the  mistake.  The  bishop's  wifo 
was  sitting  opposite,  but  he  was  detained  in  the  Lords,  and 
did  not  come  till  dinner  was  over.  I  thought  him  the  most 
agreeable  bishop  I  ever  saw,  and  very  good  looking,  and  I 
hope  he  will  come  to  show  himself  to  you  in  Scotland.  Wo 
had  my  old  friends,  Sir  George  Cayley,  and  Miss  too,  and 
Lady  Worsley  and  her  daughter  in  the  evening.  I  like  all 
the  Cayleys.  I  called  to  bid  the  Berrys  farewell  on  my 
way  home,  but  found  they  had  gone  to  Richmond  for  the 
season  that  morning ;  so  I  came  home,  and  here  at  last 


*  William  Murray,  Esq.  of  Henderland. 
8 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

ends  the  history  of  my  five  weeks'  London  experiences, 
more  faithfully  and  largely  recited  than  such  things  ever 
were  before,  or  ever  will,  or  deserve  to  be  recited  again. 
Next  morning  I  had  your  letter,  and  wrote  to  you,  and 
came  down  here  with  a  great  deal  of  languid  fever  about 
me.  But  we  drove  through  the  sweet  shades  of  Panshanger 
on  Wednesday,  and  sat  under  their  grand  oak.  We  have 
been  altogether  and  delightfully  alone  ever  since,  and,  in 
spite  of  some  little  languor,  I  have  enjoyed  it  thoroughly. 
The  country  road  is  wavy  and  woody,  very  green,  and 
bounded  by  a  ridge  of  hills,  though  low  enough  to  be  all 
cultivated  and  wooded.  The  streams  clear,  for  England, 
running  over  beds  of  green  flags  or  grass,  and  pretty  rapid. 
And  now  God  bless  you.  I  am  sure  I  have  been  a  good 
correspondent — better  perhaps  than  you  could  bargain  for 
again,  but  no  matter.  I  hope  you  went  to  Strachur,  and 
up  by  Loch  Eck,  and  Ardentinny,  and  that  you  are  at 
home  now,  and  as  happy  as  when  you  were  wandering. 
With  kindest  love  to  all  your  house  from  all  ours  here.  If 
I  were  in  town  I  would  send  you  a  stamped  cover,  but  they 
have  not  yet  reached  these  distant  parts. — Ever  affection- 
ately yours. 


162. — To  John  Richardson,  Esq. 

E.  I.  College,  Monday,  1st  November,  1841. 
My  dear  Richardson — I  really  cannot  wish  you  joy  of 
your  impending  loss  of  such  a  daughter  as  my  gentle, 
sensible,  dutifu-1,  and  cheerful  Hopey,*  and  I  do  not  know 
that  I  can  even  wish  her  joy  of  such  a  separation.  Yet  I 
feel  assured  that  there  will  be  joy,  lasting  and  growing, 
for  you  all,  and  that  in  no  long  time  we  shall  wonder  that 
anybody  thought  of  murmuring  at  so  happy  a  dispensa- 
tion. In  the  mean  time,  however,  the  only  person  I  can 

*  Who  was  going  to  be  married  to  Henry  Reeve,  Esq. 


TO   MRS.   RUTHERFURD.  275 

candidly  congratulate  is  Mr.  Reeve,  whom  I  think  far  bet- 
ter entitled  to  the  name  of  "  the  fortunate  youth"  than 
any  to  whom  it  has  ever  been  applied.  I  have  scarcely 
the  honour  of  his  acquaintance,  (though,  if  I  live,  I  hope 
to  have ;)  but  I  perfectly  remember  of  meeting  him  at 
dinner  at  your  house,  and  being  struck  with  his  vivacity 
and  talent,  and  also  of  breaking  in  upon  him  in  a  morn- 
ing call  on  Hopey  and  her  sister,  when  certain  vague  sus- 
picions and  envyings  did  pass  across  my  imagination.  Do 
tell  my  dear  Hopey  how  earnestly  I  wish  and  pray  for  her 
happiness,  and  that  I  hope  she  will  not  entirely  cut  me 
now  that  she  is  to  become  the  centre  of  a  separate  circle, 
&c. — Ever  affectionately  yours. 


163.—  To  Mrs.  Rutherfurd. 

Torquay,  Friday  Evening,  29th  April,  1842. 

My  very  dear  Sophia — I  had  actually  begun  a  letter  of 
consolation  to  you,  in  your  widowed  solitude  of  Colme 
Street  or  Craigie  Hall,  when  I  heard  from  Harriet  Brown 
that  you  had  taken  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  flown 
away  to  your  native  bowers  in  the  far  west ;  so  I  thought 
you  would  need  no  immediate  consolation,  and  might  hold 
my  tediousness  too  cheap.  But  as  I  am  coming  home  at 
last,  after  a  weary  absence  of  nine  long  months,  -I  must 
bring  myself  a  little  to  your  recollection,  that  we  may  not 
meet  as  absolute  strangers,  and  also  that  you  may  be  pre- 
pared for  some  of  the  unhappy  changes  I  am  afraid  you 
will  find  in  me.  In  my  heart,  and  my  love  to  you,  I  think 
you  will  find  none ;  and  it  is  through  these  that  I  hope  to 
retain  my  identity.  But  you  will  find  me  some  years  older 
than  when  we  parted  ;  with  whiter  hair,  a  slower  and  more 
infirm  step,  "most  weak  hams,"  as  the  satirical  scene  has 
it, — a  weaker  voice,  and  a  greater  inability  to  eat,  drink, 
or  sleep  ;  so  that,  though  I  am  not  yet,  "  sans  teeth,  sans 
eyes,  sans  breath,  sans  every  thing,"  and  do  not  drop 


276  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

much  araber  or  plum-tree  gum  from  my  eyelids, — I  am 
verging,  with  unreasonable  celerity,  to  decay,  and  am 
already  in  a  condition  which  will  require  all  the  indulgence 
I  now  bespeak  of  you.  So  you  must  be  a  good  girl,  and 
play  the  Nelly  to  me,  now  and  then,  keeping  me  out  of 
scrapes,  and  cheering  my  failing  spirit  with  the  spectacle 
of  your  brightness,  and  sustaining  it  by  the  strength  of 
your  affection ;  and  this  you  do  promise  and  engage,  as 
God  shall  bless  and  assist  you  ?  To  be  sure  you  do ;  and 
there  is  no  more  to  be  said  about  it. 

Were  you  ever  here  at  Torquay  ?  A  most  beautiful 
place  I  think  it  is,  and  lovely  both  at  sea  and  on  shore ; 
though  the  east  wind  has  found  us  out  even  here,  and 

O  * 

blown  upon  us  indeed  ever  since  we  fled  so  far  before  it. 
But  it  has  blown,  it  must  be  confessed,  with  a  gentleness 
unknown  to  the  vernal  Eurus  of  Edinburgh,  or  even  of 
London,  and  through  a  sky,  and  over  a  sea  of  the  most 
dazzling  and  unsullied  blue,  and  barely  stirring  the  tender 
green  leaves  and  crimson  apple-blossoms,  which,  in  spite 
of  its  warnings,  are  flushing  all  over  the  country.  We 
tired  of  the  racket  of  the  hotels  after  two  days'  trial,  and 
were  lucky  enough  then  to  find  very  nice  lodgings  in  a  de- 
tached house,  about  a  mile  beyond  the  town,  which  stands 
in  a  sort  of  lawn,  immediately  over  the  beach,  and  in  the 
centre  -of  a  beautiful  bay,  bounded  by  two  headlands  of 
dark-red,  caverned  rock,  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  asunder ; 
against  which  the  great  waves  come  bursting  and  thunder- 
ing all  day  long,  and  then  waste  themselves,  in  long  lines 
of  silver,  ou  the  smooth  sands  at  our  feet.  You  have  no 
idea  how  much  I  have  enjoyed  the  perfect  solitude  and 
profound  repose  of  this  situation,  with  the  lovely  moon- 
light, and  eternal  brightness,  with  which  it  has  been 
cheered  for  the  last  ten  days.  To  give  my  poor  trachea 
all  the  chances  that  are  left  in  it,  we  shall  linger  here  till 
Monday  (2d),  and  then  start  for  Hayleybury,  where,  how- 
ever, we  shall  stay  but  a  very  few  days ;  and,  after  stop- 


TO   MRS.  RUTHERFURD.  277 

ping  but  two  days  in  town  for  a  farewell  consultation  of 
my  doctors,  embark  on  the  rail  for  Lancaster  in  time  to 
reach  Edinburgh  on  the  13th  or  14th. 

You  will  be  back,  too,  about  that  time,  will  you  not  ? 
and  I  shall  see  you  soon  after  my  arrival.  I  have  misgiv- 
ings about,  being  able  to  resume  my  work,  after  all.  But 
the  final  experiment  must  now  be  tried,  and  I  feel  that  I 
shall  not  be  at  all  cast  down  by  its  failure.  I  am  sure 
that  there  can  be  no  failure  in  the  other  experiment — of 
returning  to  the  society  of  the  friends  on  whose  kindness 
I  rely ;  and  that  makes  every  thing  else  indifferent.  I 
can  tell  you  nothing  of  your  truant  husband.  He  has 
never  had  the  grace  to  write  to  me,  though  I  heard  from 
Lady  Theresa,  the  other  day,  that  he  had  appeared  before 
her  in  great  health  and  spirits.  He  would  probably  tell 
you  of  Lister  himself,  for  whom  I  cannot  help  having 
great  apprehensions;  and  I  can  see  that,  with  all  her  buoy- 
ancy of  hope  and  spirits,  she  is  not  without  deep  anxiety. 

We  know  nobody  here  but  a  brother  of  Macaulay's, 
who  married  a  very  sweet  and  beautiful  daughter  of  Lord 
Denman's  last  December,  and  has  been  honeymooning  with 
her  here  ever  since.  He  has  the  robust  spirits,  and  stout 
and  kind  heart  of  his  brother,  though  without  any  of  his 
fine  understanding,  and,  indeed,  is  chiefly  remarkable  for 
being  alive,  after  a  ten  years'  residence  at  Sierra  Leone. 
However,  they  are  very  easy  people  to  live  with,  and,  be- 
sides the  constant  spectacle  of  happiness  with  which  they 
delight  me,  have  carried  us  to  all  their  lover's  walks,  and 
whispering  places  in  the  ocean  caves,  and  we  have  driven 
together  to  Dartmouth  and  Dawlish,  and  laid  in  the  germs 
of  many  pleasant  recollections.  I  sometimes  think  that  I 
am  rather  better  too,  since  I  have  come  to  these  milder 
regions ;  and  when  I  run  out  as  I  generally  do  ("  on  my 
printless  feet")  to  "  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,  and  to  fly 
him  when  he  comes  back,"  for  a  few  minutes  before  break- 
fast, and  then  come  back  to  the  airy  quietude  of  our  octa- 

VOL.  II.— 24 


278  LIFE   OF    LOKD    JEFFUEV. 

gon  drawing-room,  with  its  two  sunny  windows,  letting  in 
silent  stripes  of  green  light  through  its  Venitians,  and  the 
shady  one  wide  open,  I  think  I  should  like  to  stay  here 
always,  and  fade  gently  away,  with  the  last  flowers  of 
autumn.  But  things  will  be  as  they  are  appointed ;  and 
having  all  my  life  been  contented  to  move  passively  with 
the  quiet  current,  which  will  bear  us  all  on  its  destined 
course,  whether  we  struggle  against  it  or  not,  I  do  not 
think  of  any  feeble  movements  to  modify  its  direction  in 
these  last  days  of  the  voyage ;  and  so,  God  bless  and  keep 
you  always,  my  very  dear  Sophia. 

If  you  write,  immediately  on  receiving  this,  to  E.  I. 
College,  near  Hertford,  I  shall  get  your  letter  before  start- 
ing. If  not,  I  shall  hope  to  come  to  the  contact  of  your 
written  or  living  hand,  immediately  on  my  arrival  at  Edin- 
burgh. C.  sends  her  best  love,  and  our  little  Scottish  girl 
also,  whom  we  carry  back  with  us  to  Edinburgh.  Ever, 
most  affectionately  yours. 


164. —  To  Andrew  Rutherfurd,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  Saturday,  llth  July,  1842. 

My  dear  R. — A  word  only  to  thank  you  for  your  kind 
letters,  before  I  go  to  keep  tryst  with  Cockburn  on  the 
green  at  Craigcrook.  This  is  the  first  fair  Saturday  we 
have  had  this  month,  and  the  last  of  our  sessional  Satur- 
nalia. We  shall  have  Charley  back,  however,  before  the 
next,  and  you  and  Sophia  may  I  not  hope  before  one  or 
two  more  ?  But,  oh  dear,  volvuntur  anni !  You  do  not 
care,  for  there  are  many  coming  to  you  before  your  score 
(of  three  score  and  ten)  is  up.  But  when  the  current  is 
visibly  almost  out,  and  when  every  whirl  of  the  Fates' 
swift  spindle  shows  the  dark  weed  through  the  few  remain- 
ing coils  of  grizzly  wool,  the  reflection  is  not  so  pleasant. 
It  does  not  oppress  me  much,  however,  though  it  comes 
oftener  than  it  used  to  do.  But  this  is  not  Saturnalian 


TO    MR.    EMPSON.  279 

language,  and  I  do  not  know  how  I  fell  into  it.  "Talk 
not  of  fate ;  ah — change  the  theme :  talk  of  odours,  talk 
of  \vine;"  and  so  we  shall — at  dinner,  and  with  you  too 
when  you  come  to  dine  with  us. 

We  have  not  had  a  club  since  you  went ;  and  if  you  do 
not  come  back  soon,  that  venerable  institution  will  be  not 
sleeping  but  dead. 


165. — To  Mr.  Empson. 

[It  is  not  dated,  and  hence  is  misplaced  here ;  but  it  was  written  early 
in  1840,  some  time  prior  to  the  passing  of  the  3d  and  4th  of  Victoria, 
chapter  9. ] 

Sic  cogitavit. — F.  J. 

I  suppose  you  admit  that  there  is  privilege,  as  to  some 
things,  and  that  we  have  now  nothing  to  do  with  the  ques- 
tion whether  there  ought  to  be  ?  whether  the  rights  and 
powers  of  House  of  Commons,  or  Lords,  or  of  legisla- 
ture itself,  should  be  subordinated,  as  in  America,  to  the 
judiciary,  or  be,  to  some  extent,  independent?  And  yet 
there  is  a  hankering  after  the  American  rule,  and  a  con- 
stant raising  of  the  question  of  what  ought  to  be  in  all  the 
anti-privilege  argument. 

But,  assuming  that  there  is  privilege  within  certain  lim- 
its, the  question  really  comes  to  be,  who  is  the  judge  of 
these  limits  ?  tvho  to  determine  when  they  have  been  ex- 
ceeded ? — to  fix,  in  short,  the  distinction  between  the  use 
and  the  abuse  ? 

Now,  considering  either  the  actual  origin  of  privilege^ 
or  the  nature  of  that  sense  of  public  advantage,  or  quasi 
necessity,  which  has  led  to  its- assumption,  I  have  always 
thought  that  the  power  (and  the  right)  of  judging  to  what 
cases  it  should  apply,  can  only  be  in  the  body  which  pos- 
sesses it.  It  is  easy  to  say  that  if  this  be  so,  any  thing 
may  be  declared  a  breach  of  privilege,  and  every  thing 


280  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

left  to  the  mercy  of  an  irresponsible  despotism,  and  to 
state  extreme  cases  in  which  startling  acts  of  injustice  and 
cruelty  may  have  actually  been  perpetrated  under  this  prin- 
ciple. But  this  is  poor,  and  I  cannot  but  think  very  pal- 
pable, nonsense. 

Is  it  not  answered  at  once,  and  quite  as  sufficiently  as  it 
deserves,  by  directing  the  same  twaddle  against  the  courts 
of  law  ?  If  they  are  always  to  judge  what  is  within  privi- 
lege, may  they  not  at  any  time  determine  that  there  is 
nothing  within  it  ?  If  by  leaving  the  question  to  the  H. 
of  C.  every  thing  may  be  brought  within  privilege,  is  it  not 
equally  clear  that,  by  leaving  it  to  the  courts  of  law,  all 
privilege  may  be  entirely  annihilated  ? 

The  short  of  it  is,  that  while  men  are  but  men,  we  must 
be  at  the  mercy  of  a  fallible  and  irresponsible  despotism 
sci  last;  and  if  I  had  to  choose,  as  in  an  open  question,  I 
should  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I  would  far  rather  have 
the  House  of  Commons  for  my  despot  than  the  courts  of 
law. 

No  reasoning  is  so  puerile  as  that  from  extreme  (or 
morally  impossible)  cases.  They  may  be  of  use  some- 
times to  test  an  abstract  proposition  of  law;  but,  as  make 
weights  in  a  practical  question,  they  are  absolutely  con- 
temptible. I  do  not  think  it  makes  much  difference 
whether  they  are  purely  imaginary,  or  borrowed  from 
antiquated  precedents,  and  either  way  they  may  always 
be  retorted  on  those  who  adduce  them.  Are  there  no 
cases  of  atrocious  oppression  and  injustice  in  the  decisions 
of  those  courts  of  law  to  whose  infallibility  you  would 
have  recourse  from  the  privileged  oppressions  of  Parlia- 
ment? Are  there  no  such  cases  in  the  acts  of  the  legisla- 
ture itself,  which  we  must  all  admit  to  be  without  remedy  ? 
Nay,  will  any  man  tell  me  that  there  is  the  smallest 
chance  of  any  such  oppression  -being  attempted  by  the 
present  H.  of  C.,  as  has  been  over  and  over  again  inflicted 
by  the  whole  legislative  body? 


TO    MR.  EMPSON.  281 

Then,  again,  as  to  the  quibble,  that,  in  the  exercise  of 
privilege,  the  H.  of  C.  is  at  once  party  and  judge, — I 
say,  that  in  all  cases  of  disputed  jurisdiction  or  contempt, 
(which  is  precisely  the  case  here,)  the  court  is  always  both 
party  and  judge ;  and  that  courts  of  law  have  much  more 
of  the  esprit  du  corps — the  unfair  leaning  to  their  order — 
than  any  other  bodies  whatever. 

I  confess,  too,  that  I  can  see  no  ground  on  which  the 
courts  have  recently  overruled  the  privilege  of  the  H.  of 
C.,  that  might  not  justify  their  overruling  it,  in  the  cases 
in  which  it  has  been  held  best  established,  and  has  not 
yet  been  questioned.  Take  the  privilege,  for  example, 
of  members  not  being  answerable,  anywhere,  for  words 
spoken  in  Parliament.  It  is  possible  that  such  words 
may  not  only  be  ruinously  defamatory,  but  capable  of 
being  clearly  proved  to  have  been  dictated  by  the  basest 
and  most  abominable  personal  malice.  Why,  then,  should 
not  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench,  on  the  grounds  lately  as- 
serted, allow  an  action  for  damages  on  offer  of  such  proof? 
The  case  of  an  alleged  defamation  being  published  by  the 
deliberate  order  and  authority  of  the  whole  House,  seems 
to  me  a  far  stronger  case  for  the  assertion  (or  allowance) 
of  privilege,  than  that  of  a  spiteful  individual  sheltering 
himself  under  that  shield  ;  and  so,  in  all  the  oiher*admitted 
cases  under  which  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  imagine  the 
most  infamous  injustice. 

If  it  be  said  that  there  is  established  usage  and  -prece- 
dent for  such  cases,  but  none  for  those  recently  brought 
forward,  I  answer  that  there  is  no  such  series  of  prece- 
dents as  would  justify  these  admitted  and  established 
cases,  on  the  ground  of  authority  and  prescription,  with- 
out justifying  at  the  same  time  a  great  number  of  ether 
cases,  which  no  one  now  pretends  to  justify;  that,  in 
point  of  fact,  there  are  more  precedents  for  a  confessedly 
^unjustifiable  exercise  of  privilege  than  for  that  which  is 
now  universally  allowed  to  be  just  and  necessary,  and 

24* 


282  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

that  these  established  cases  have  accordingly  been  so  es- 
tablished, not  on  the  footing  of  long  usage,  but  on  the 
general  (not  judicial)  recognition  of  the  II.  of  C.  having 
rightly  adjudged  them  to  be  necessary  for  the  due  per- 
formance of  their  all-important  functions  and  duties. 

It  is  to  this  necessity  accordingly,  and  to  their  own  en- 
lightened and  conscientious  sense  of  it,  that  the  House  of 
Commons  has  always  referred  its  assertion  of  privilege, 
either  in  former  or  Decent  times ;  and  if,  in  their  improved 
and  cautious  application  of  the  principle,  they  have  seen 
cause  to  abandon  and  recede  from  many  precedents  to  be 
found  on  their  records,  why  or  how  should  they  be  re- 
strained from  now  extending  it  to  any  new  and  emerging 
cases,  (if  any  such  actually  occur,)  while  they  feel  and  are 
convinced  that  it  is  at  least  as  applicable  as  to  any  to 
which  it  had  been  previously  applied  ? 

If  it  be  admitted  then  (and  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be 
denied)  that,  independent  altogether  either  of  precise  pre- 
cedent, or  near  analogy,  it  is  right  and  fit  that  privilege 
should  exist  (always  meaning  by  that,  not  merely  the  right 
of  adjudging  and  ordering,  in  the  first  instance,  but  the 
absolute  exclusion  of  all  interference,  review,  or  control,) 
whenever  it  is  necessary  for  the  right  performance  of  the 
highest  of  all  public  functions,  as  those  of  legislation  ; 
then  the  only  question  is,  whether  the  right  of  judging  of 
this  necessity  should  (or  must)  be  in  the  respective  legisla- 
tive bodies  themselves,  or  in  the  courts  of  common  law? 
To  my  mind  there  can  be  but  one  answer. 

In  the  first  place,  this  right  has,  in  point  of  fact,  always 
been  assumed  and  exercised,  and  in  a  vast  majority  of 
cases,  without  challenge,  by  these  bodies,  on  their  own 
proper  authority;  and  all  their  existing  and  admitted 
privileges  have  accordingly  grown  up  and  been  established 
upon  this  assumption  of  inherent  right ;  and  never  in  any 
case  on  the  strength  of  any  grant  or  recognition  of  them 
in  any  other  quarter.  Then,  though  the  courts  have  oc- 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  283 

casionally  brought  them  into  question,  and  refused  to  re- 
cognize them,  I  believe  there  is  no  instance  in  which  their 
right  to  do  so  has  been  acknowledged  by  these  bodies. 
For,  though  I  am  aware  that  there  are  one  or  two  (at 
most)  in  which,  after  such  disallowances  by  the  courts, 
they  have  abstained  from  proceeding  against  the  offen- 
ders— yet  I  believe  it  will  be  found  that  this  was  always 
done  on  an  avowed  change  of  their  own  opinions  as  to  the 
necessity  of  such  proceedings,  and  n#t  on  any  deference 
or  submission  to  the  judicial  authority.  But  if  all  existing 
privilege  has  thus  originated  in  assumption  alone,  why 
should  any  other  title  be  now  required  ?  or  is  it  not  ridicu- 
lous to  pretend  that  under  the  present  constitution  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  the  growing  power  of  public 
opinion,  there  can  be  any  serious  dangers  from  its  exer- 
cise ? 

But  if  the  matter  were  open  for  reasoning,  can  any- 
body doubt  that,  when  the  question  is,  whether  an  occa- 
sion has  actually  arisen  in  which  the  assertion  of  privilege 
is  necessary  to  the  right  and  effectual  exercise  of  the  legis- 
lative functions,  the  only  body  that  ever  can  be  competent 
to  decide  on  it,  must  be  that  in  which  the  occasion  has  so 
arisen  ?  who  alone  can  be  aware  of  the  obstructions  that 
might  otherwise  impede  them ;  and  who  must  not  only 
know  all  about  it  far  better  than  any  other  can  ever  be 
made  to  know,  but  must  often  have  their  best  and  safest 
motives  suggested  by  that  feeling  and  conscientia  of  their 
position  and  embarrassment,  which  no  proof  or  explana- 
tion can  ever  make  intelligible  to  another  ?  that  other 
especially  being  a  body  accustomed  only  to  the  applica- 
tion of  technical  and  inflexible  rules,  and  of  whom  a  great 
part  have  probably  had  no  experience  of  the  working,  or 
requisites,  of  preparatory  legislation  ?  I  must  add,  too,  a 
body  which  has  almost  always  been  hostile  to  popular 
rights,  and  disposed  to  be  obsequious  to  authority,  and  of 
whose  interference  with  constitutional  questions  it  is  right 


284  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

therefore  to  be  jealous.  The  House  of  Commons  has  no 
doubt  often  used  its  privilege  in  subservience  to  aristo- 
cratic or  regal  propensities  ;  yet  not  so  uniformly  or  basely 
as  the  courts  of  law;  and  though  both  are  improved  in 
this  respect,  the  improvement  undoubtedly  is  far  greater 
(especially  since  the  Reform  Bill)  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons than  in  the  courts. 

As  to 's  argument  as  to  the  insufficiency  of  the 

remedy  by  privilege— as  the  House  of  Commons  can  only 
imprison  during  its  session,  and  no  sentence  or  execution 
can  proceed  in  recess,  I  can  only  say,  that  it  has  no  bearing 
whatever  on  the  merits  of  the  question,  and  is  well  enough 
answered  by  suggesting,  that  imprisonment  during  a  long 
session  is  no  very  light  infliction,  and  that  the  fear  of  it 
must  operate  (as  we  have  seen  it  operate)  to  deter  many 
from  beginning,  or  persisting  in  opposition  to  the  resolutions 
of  the  House.  The  most  remarkable  thing  about  that 
argument,  however,  is  the  contrast  it  presents  to  the 
exaggerated  views  which  have  been  taken  of  the  terrible 
consequences  of  these  occasional  assertions  of  privilege, 
and  the  ridicule,  indeed,  which  it  throws  on  their  fantastic 
alarms.  It  is  certainly  edifying  to  see  one  leading  assail- 
ant of  this  claim  maintaining  that,  if  not  instantly  crushed, 
it  will  lay  the  property  and  constitution  of  the  country  at 
the  feet  of  a  many-headed  despot ;  and  another  holding  it 
up  to  contempt  as  a  puny  demonstration  of  impotent  anger, 
which  can  give  no  real  distinction  to  what  it  affects  to 
repress. 

Upon  these  views  generally,  you  will  at  once  see  that  I 
Hold  all  references  to  past  instances  of  admitted  abuse  as 
of  no  account  whatever  in  the  argument ;  and  still  less,  of 
course,  any  objection  to  the  wisdom,  propriety,  or  even 
consistency,  of  any  recent  resolution  that  a  case  had  oc- 
curred for  the  assertion  of  privilege.  The  issue  in  all 
such  cases  being,  whether  such  assertion  was,  or  was  not 
necessary,  (or  highly  expedient)  in  each  particular  case, 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  285 

for  the  explication  and  due  performance  of  legislative 
duties,  a  difference  of  opinion,  on  the  part  of  a  present 
minority  (or  of  a  vast  majority  of  an  after  generation), 
can  no  more  bring  into  question  the  right  of  the  general 
body  to  decide,  and  act  upon  its  decision,  in  the  case  of 
the  H.  of  C.,  than  in  any  other  case  of  doubtful  or  erro- 
neous decision.  The  legislature  has  often  enough  passed 
absurd  and  sanguinary  statutes  ;  courts  of  law  (including 
the  House  of  Lords)  have  still  oftener  pronounced  arbi- 
trary and  foolish  and  corrupt  judgments,  and  no  doubt 
have  made  oppressive  and  vindictive  commitments  for 
alleged  contempt.  But  no  one,  I  suppose,  has  ever  main- 
tained, that  the  citation  of  such  instances  afforded  any 
argument  against  the  existence  of  the  legislative  and 
judicial  powers  in  these  several  bodies,  or  had  the  slightest 
relevancy  indeed  in  such  an  argument. 

But  though  /  should,  as  a  judge,  hold  the  solemn  asser- 
tion of  privilege  by  the  House  of  Commons  as  sufficient  to 
stop  all  courts  from  thwarting  or  interfering  with  it,  I  can- 
not disguise  from  myself  that  many  excellent  persons,  as 
well  as  almost  all  other  judges,  do  in  fact  think  differently  ; 
— and  that  a  question  of  jurisdiction  being  once  raised,  on 
•which  they  are  bound  to  decide,  it  is  difficult  to  say  that 
they  are  not  entitled  to  give  out  and  maintain  their  con- 
scientious decision,  although  its  enforcement  may  conflict 
directly  with  the  orders  of  one  of  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment. Both  parties,  in  short,  as  in  all  cases  of  disputed 
jurisdiction,  may  not  only  be  right  in  foro  poli,  but  be 
under  an  indispensable  obligation  to  enforce  their  conflict- 
ing decisions.  You  in  England  may  have  generally  been 
able  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty  by  appeal  to  the  Lords. 
But  with  us  in  Scotland  it  is  truly  as  inextricable  in 
this  contest  about  privilege,  as  in  the  case  of  conflict 
between  the  Session  and  Justiciary,  and  in  the  late  memo- 
rable lutte  between  Session  and  General  Assembly  ; — both 
Justiciary  and  Assembly  being  absolutely  final,  and  ad- 


286  LIFE   OP   LORD  JEFFREY. 

mitting  of  no  appeal  to  any  other  tribunal.  In  many 
respects,  indeed,  these  cases  are  strikingly  parallel  to  the 
present ;  for  as  there  is  no  review  of  the  decisions  of  the 
Commons  by  appeal  to  the  Lords,  and  as,  in  point  of  fact, 
these  conflicts  upon  privilege  have  often  been  with  the 
Lords  themselves,  it  is  obviously  quit3  absurd  to  suppose 
that  they  either  ever  would,  or  ought  ever  to  recognize 
any  higher  jurisdiction  in  the  appellate  law  court,  than  in 
those  lower  ones  with  which  their  conflict  may  have  begun. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  it  was  wise  even  to  plead  to 
the  jurisdiction  in  these  courts ;  but  of  course  they  never 
could  plead  to  anything  else,  nor  without  a  full  disclamation 
of  any  obligation  to  stand  by  the  decision. 

The  only  remedy,  then,  for  this  conflict  must  be  by 
legislation;  and  though  I  foresee  infinite  difficulty  in  ad- 
justing the  terms  of  any  enactment  on  the  subject,  I 
confess  I  do  not  go  along  with  those  high  advocates  of 
privilege  who  maintain  that  they  ought  to  resist  any  at- 
tempt to  bring  in  even  an  unobjectionable  statute  in  regard 
to  it.  Even  they,  I  should  think,  would  scarcely  maintain 
that  it  would  not  be  for  their  ease  and  dignity,  as  well  as 
for  the  general  good,  that  an  act  should  be  passed  inter- 
dicting and  enjoining  the  courts  of  law  from  entertaining 
any  suit  importing  a  disallowance  of  any  assertion  of  privi- 
lege by  the  House  of  Commons  as  to  certain  matters  and 
things;  and  I  confess  this  would  be  the  leading  and  maiu 
enactment  of  any  statute  I  should  like  to  see  proposed  on 
the  subject.  But  I  should  have  no  objection  to  its  also 
containing  a  disclamation  of  all  claim  of  privilege,  in  those 
cases  of  admitted  abuse  which  have  actually  occurred,  and 
in  such  other  cases  as  might  be  agreed  upon ;  and  though 
it  might  be  difficult  to  come  to  an  agreement,  yet  I  do  not 
think  it  altogether  hopeless,  considering  the  constant  vex- 
ation of  such  discussions  as  the  present ;  and  above  all,  I 
can  see  no  reason  why  the  House  should  refuse  to  enter 
upon  the  consideration,  as  they  are  quite  certain  that  no 


TO    MK.  EMPSON.  287 

act  can  ever  pass  except  with  their  full  and  deliberate  as- 
sent to  everything  it  contains. 

Craigcrook,  Thursday. — I  had  not  room  on  the  margin 
yesterday  to  say  all  I  wished  as  to  the  House  of  Commons 
being  more  of  a  party  than  the  courts  in  questions  of 
privilege,  and  of  the  greater  responsibility  of  th'e  latter ; 
and  the  chief  thing  omitted  was — that  almost  all  the  cases 
in  which  the  House  appears  as  a  party — as  in  punishing 
for  libel  on  House  or  members,  or  partial  publication  of 
evidence  pending  certain  inquiries — it  is  admitted,  both  by 

and  ,  that  the  assertion  of  privilege  is  clearly 

right,  and  may  be  necessary ;  while  in  the  recent  cases, 

on  which  all 's  invective  is  showered,  the  House  does 

not  at  all  appear  as  a  party,  and  is  a  party  no  otherwise 
than  the  courts  are,  when  they  afterwards  do  take  up  these 
same  cases.  The  parties  to  all  these  cases  are  individuals 
injured,  and  slanderers,  and  they  come  before  the  House 
as  a  proper  judicial  body  by  petition,  either  for  leave  to 
sue  the  action,  or  for  an  order  to  have  injunction  against 
its  proceeding,  in  which  the  question  of  the  conflicting 
claims  of  the  House  on  one  hand,  and  the  courts  on  the 
other,  to  the  executive  disposal  of  such  cases,  is  no  doubt 
raised  by  these  parties,  and  judgment  demanded  on  it,  in 
either ;  the  relation  in  which  the  House  and  the  courts 
stand  to  these  parties,  and  to  the  cause,  being  precisely 
identical  in  all  respects  in  the  two  tribunals,  and  being  in 
no  way  different  from  what  must  subsist  in  every  case  of 
disputed  jurisdiction  which  may  be  successively  (or  even 
simultaneously)  brought  by  the  proper  parties  before  the 
courts  whom  it  concerns. 

I  should  have  liked,  too,  to  have  pressed  more  distinctly 
on  you,  that  the  very  basis  and  whole  ground  of  my  opi- 
nion being  on  the  proposition  that  there -is  and  must  be  an 
uncontrolled  and  irresponsible  privilege,  wherever  its  ex- 
ercise is  necessary  or  material  to  the  due  discharge  of 


288  LIFE    OF   LORJ)   JEFFREY. 

legislative  functions — and,  consequently,  that  the  only 
question  that  can  ever  be  raised  in  any  particular  case,  is, 
"whether  it  actually  presents  such  a  case  of  moral  necessity  ? 
And  considering  how  large,  and  loose,  and  broad,  such  a 
question  must  always  be,  I  think  it  must  at  once  occur 
that  it  is  peculiarly  unfit  for  a  court  used  only  to  deal  with 
precise  and  definite  principles,  and  can  only  be  safely 
trusted  to  a  body  necessarily  and  exclusively  acquainted 
with  all  the  special  circumstances  out  of  which  the  neces- 
sity may  arise ; — and  that  the  H.  of  C.  being  alone  such  a 
body,  its  decision  upDn  it  is  far  more  likely  to  be  right 
than  that  of  a  court  of  law.  Both,  I  have  already  said, 
are  truly  in  pari  casu,  as  to  being  parties  or  judging  in 
their  own  cause  ;  and  the  only  real  question  is,  as  to  which 
should  give  way,  or  be  of  paramount  authority,  on  the  as- 
sertion of  its  jurisdiction?  Looking  only  to  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  two  bodies,  I  cannot  think  this  doubtful ;  the 
one,  a  small  handful  of  royal  nominees,  presumed  to  be 
without  party  bias,  and  to  have  it  as  their  first  duty  to 
agree  and  be  unanimous, — the  other,  a  large  assembly,  in- 
cluding, of  course,  all  those  best  acquainted  with  constitu- 
tional law  and  principle,  but  so  divided  by  party,  as  to  be 
most  unlikely  to  agree  by  any  great  majority  in  any  thing 
not  clearly  right,  and  far  more  under  the  influence  of  en- 
lightened public  opinion  than  any  other  body  ever  can  be, 
and  having  really  no  common  interest  to  pervert  their 
judgment.  If  a  jury  of  twelve  men  is  thought  the  safest 
ultimate  judge  of  most  such  questions — for  the  small  chance 
it  holds  out  of  having  some  of  these  qualities, — is  not  a  II. 
of  C.,  chosen  as  ours  now  is,  far  better  than  such  a  jury  ? 
But  I  have  taxed  you  too  much  about  this  already — and 
liberavi  animum. 

Here  is  my  last  word  about  privilege  : — 

You  do  not  admit  that  the  House  of  Commons  has  right  to 
exercise  (without  control)  all  the  powers  which  it  thinks  ne- 
cessary for  its  legislative  functions.  But  I  think  you  do, 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  289 

and  must,  admit,  that  it  has  and  ought  to  have,  all  that 
are  truly  necessary  for  that  purpose ;  and  the  sole  ques- 
tion therefore  is,  ^vho  is  to  judge  what  are  so  necessary  ? 
Upon  all  constitutional  and  rational  grounds  I  hold  the 
House  of  Commons  much  fitter  and  safer  than  any  court 
of  law,  or  the  whole  twelve  nominees  of  the  crown  in  a 
body.  Though  you  do  not  admit  my  principle  to  this  ex- 
tent, you  must  admit  (if  you  have  a  particle  of  candour) 
that,  for  the  purpose  of  settling  what  is,  and  should  be, 
privilege,  the  principle,  test,  and  rule  of  judgment,  must 
be  what  is  truly  necessary,  or  very  material,  for  the  best 
discharge  of  legislative  duties?  and  that  all  reference  either 
to  precedents  or  abuses  is  wholly  and  generically  irrelevant. 
If  you  do  not  admit  this,  I  think  you  are  not  to  be  argued 
with ;  and  the  admission  brings  the  case  at  once  to  the 
point  I  have  mentioned. 

This  js  the  first  stage  of  my  argument,  and  in  substance 
there  is  but  another;  and  that  is,  that  the  whole  question, 
as  I  have  now  stated  it,  being  plainly  and  rigorously  a 
question  of  conflicting  jurisdiction,  each  of  the  courts  or 
bodies  must  have  an  equal  right  (or  duty)  to  adjudicate 
upon  it,  when  brought  before  them,  and  be  equally  liable 
to  the  temptation  of  deciding  it  in  their  own  favour — the 
matter  to  be  adjudged  being,  in  all  cases,  the  same — viz., 
Whether  the  privilege  asserted  or  questioned  in  any  par- 
ticular case,  is  truly  essential  to  the  right  exercise  of  legis- 
lative functions  ?  which,  again,  is  plainly  either  a  question 
of  fact  and  experience,  or  of  mere  constitutional  policy, 
and  never,  in  any  just  sense,  a  question  of  law. 

This  is  the  sum  of  my  argument ;  and  I  think  I  am  right 
in  saying  that  it  is  not  so  much  as  touched  by 's  de- 
clamation, and  but  slightly  by  the  details  and  reasonings 
of-  -. 

The  whole,  then,  resolving  into  a  conflict  of  independent 
and  supreme  jurisdiction,  I  agree  that  there  is  no  final  or 
practical  solution  but  by  legislation,  upon  the  assumption 

VOL.  II.— 25  T 


LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

(now,  I  fear,  but  too  necessary)  that  neither  party  will  be 
convinced  by  the  reasonings  of  the  other.  I  do  not  there- 
fore go  at  all  along  with  those  who  hold  legislative  inter- 
ference incompetent  or  unconstitutional — which,  indeed, 
cannot,  I  think,  be  even  consistently  asserted.  But  the 
question  for  the  legislature  is  necessarily  a  question  of 
state  policy,  and  nothing  else,  and  one  upon  which  public 
opinion  ought  to  be  previously  matured  by  large  public 
discussion. 

This  may  be  one  answer  to  your  pragmatical  and  empi- 
rical question,  why  the  two  Houses,  having  common  cause, 
and  substantial  power  over  the  crown,  do  not  at  once  settle 
the  matter  by  an  act,  which  they  evidently  may  have  all 
their  own  way?  The  necessity  of  taking  public  opinion 
with  them  is  one  answer.  But,  practically,  there  are  many 
others.  1st.  The  two  Houses  are  jealous  of  each  other, 
and  not  likely  to  have  the  same  specific  questions  of  pri- 
vilege before  them  at  the  same  time ;  and  so,  might  justly 
apprehend  unreasonable,  factious,  and  unfair  interference 
mutually;  and  2d.  To  do  any  good,  the  statute  should 
embody  a  full  code  of  privilege,  which  it  would  obviously 
be  infinitely  difficult  to  digest,  while  a  successive  settling 
of  special  questions  by  consecutive  enactments  would  not 
go  to  the  root  of  the  conflict,  and  would  every  day  lead  to 
greater  risk  of  inconsistency  and  injustice;  yet  I  think 
such  a  course  will  soon  be  inevitable. 


166. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Craigcrook,  Sunday  (1842). 

One  other  Scottish  Sunday  blessing  on  you,  before  we 
cross  the  border ;  and  a  sweet,  soothing,  Sabbath-quiet  day 
it  is,  with  little  sun,  and  some  bright  showers,  but  a  silver 
sky,  and  a  heavenly  listening  calm  in  the  air,  and  a  milky 
temperature  of  67 ;  with  low-flying  swallows,  and  loud- 
Meating  lambs,  and  sleepy  murmuring  of  bees  round  the 


TO   MRS.  EMPSON.  291 

heavyheaded  flowers,  and  freshness  and  fragrance  all  about. 
Granny*  went  to  the  Free  Church  at  Muttonhole,  and 
Tarleyf  and  I  had  our  wonted  walk  of  speculation — I  show- 
ing her  over  again,  how  the  silk,  and  the  muslin,  and  the 
flannel  of  her  raiment  were  prepared;  with  how  much 
trouble  and  ingenuity ;  and  then  to  the  building  of  houses 
in  all  their  details;  and  to  the  exchange  of  commodities 
from  one  country  to  another — woollen  cloth  for  sugar,  and 
knives  and  forks  for  wine,  &c. ;  all  which  she  followed  and 
listened  to  with  the  most  intelligent  eagerness.  She  then 
had  six  gooseberries,  of  my  selection,  in  the  garden,  and 
then  she  went  up  to  Ali.|  I  went  to  meet  Granny,  on 
her  way  from  the  Free,  whom  I  found  just  issuing  from  it, 
with  the  ancient  pastor's  wife, — the  worthy  Doctor  himself 
having  prayed  and  preached,  with  great  animation,  for 
better  than  two  hours,  in  the  82d  year  of  his  age  !§  Soon 
after  we  came  home,  Rutherfurd  came  up  from  Lauriston, 
and  we  strolled  about  for  a  good  while,  when  Charlotte 
and  I  conducted  him  on  his  way  back,  and  are  just  come 
in  at  five  o'clock.  An  innocent  day  it  has  been,  at  any 
rate,  I  think ;  and  yet  the  heart  is  not  right,  and  I  havo 
no  feeling  of  health  throughout  the  twenty-four  hours. 
But  I  do  not  suifer,  and  am  really  alert  and  cheerful  when 
the  spasms  are  off,  and  have  an  existence  of  many  enjoy- 
ments. Though  the  malady  is  in  the  circulation,  ll  have 
little  doubt  that  the  immediate  cause  is  dyspepsia;  and 
therefore  I  think  it  may  be  obviated,  or  at  all  events 
relieved. 

It  would  do  any  heart  good  to  see  the  health  and  hap- 
piness of  these  children !  The  smiling,  all-enduring,  good 
humour  of  little  Nancy,  and  the  bounding  spirits,  quick 

*  Mrs.  Jeffrey. 

f  Charlotte,  his  eldest  grandchild,  born  7th  April,  1838. 
J  A  nursery  maid. 

g  The  Rev.  Dr.  Muirhead,  formerly  the  Established,  then  the  Free, 
minister  of  Cramond. 


292  LIFE   OP  LORD  JEFFREY. 

sensibility,  and  redundant  vitality,  of  Tarley.  I  sent  you 
cautions  about  Meggie,  and  her  voyages  and  travels,  yester- 
day ;  to  which,  if  she  goes  before  we  come,  I  hope  you  will 
attend,  and  not  laugh  at  a  grandpapa's  anxieties.  I  had  a 
nice  letter  from  Empson  last  night  (just  a  week  old),  and 
was  glad  to  find  from  it,  that  his  stay  by  the  fountains* 
was  to  be  so  much  shorter  than  I  had  imagined.  He  talks 
of  coming  away  about  the  7th,  in  which  case  he  would  be 
with  you  in  ten  days  after  we  came,  which  would  be  delight- 
ful. I  had  feared  he  would  not  be  coming  till  September. 
Now,  if  we  hold  our  purpose  of  moving  on  Friday,  this 
will  be  the  last  letter  you  can  answer  to  Edinburgh.  But 
we  shall  tell  you  to-morrow  how  you  are  to  address  after. 
I  hope  your  heats  are  abated.  With  us  the  air  is  quite 
cool  to-day,  ther.  only  at  67;  and  I  think  there  will  be 
more  showers.  I  wish  you  could  see  our  roses,  and  my 
glorious  white  lilies,  which  I  kiss  every  morning  with  a 
saint's  devotion.  We  have  been  cutting  out  evergreens, 
and  extending  our  turf,  in  the  approach;  and  it  looks  a 
great  deal  more  airy  and  extensive.  Would  you  could 
have  come  to  see  it !  But  it  will  be  still  better  next  year, 
when  you  must  and  shall  come.  Heaven  bless  you ! 

167.— To  Mist  Berry. 

Craigcrook,  Sunday,  24th  July,  1842. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry — I  think  you  will  like  to  hear  that 
your  old  fellow-sufferer  has  got  through  his  spell  of  summer 
work,  and  is  at  least  as  well  as  when  he  began  it.  I  hope, 
too,  that  you  will  expect  to  hear  that  he  is  most  anxious 
to  learn  whether  you  have  got  as  well  through  your  spell 
of  summer  idleness  ?  for,  though  he  has  not  been  entirely 
without  tidings  of  you  since  he  saw  you,  they  have  of  late 
been  scanty,  and  never  had  the  authenticity  which  belongs 
to  the  autograph  of  the  party  concerned,  &c. 

*  Mr.  Empson  was  at  Wiesbaden". 


TO   MIgS   BERRY.  293 

You  will  understand,  then,  that  I  want  to  know  about 
your  health  and  spirits  generally,  and  how  you  have  been, 
employing  yourself,  and  what  you  intend  to  do  with  the 
remainder  of  the  season,  and  with  what  views  you  look  be- 
fore and  after,  upon  this  shifting  pageant  of  life  ?  For  my 
part,  I  think  I  grow  more  tranquil  and  contented,  and  I 
fancy,  too,  more  indulgent  to  others,  and  certainly  not  less 
affectionate  to  those  from  whom  I  look  for  affection.  But 
I  want  a  few  lessons  still  from  you,  and  should  be  glad  to 
be  confirmed  in  what  is  right,  and  warned  against  what  is 
wrong,  in  my  estimate  of  the  duties  and  enjoyments  that 
may  remain  for  declining  age,  &c.  What  a  number  of 
people  have  died  since  I  was  nearly  given  over,  and  in  the 
fullness  of  time,  too,  last  Christmas !  And  so  many  that 
seemed  entitled  to  reckon  on  long  years,  and  of  happy 
existence!  It  is  very  sad  to  think  of;  and  I  can  seldom 
contrast  their  fate  with  my  own  without  feeling  as  if  I  had 
unjustly  usurped  a  larger  share  of  our  common  vitality  than 
I  had  any  right  to;  and  more  especially  when  I  feel  that 
I  shall  make  no  good  use  of  what  has  been  so  lavished  on 
me,  &c. 

I  hope  you  are  not  quite  so  much  alarmed  as  I  am  at 
this  wide  spread  and  lasting  distress  of  the  country,  and 
wish  you  could  give  me  comfort  upon  that,  as  well  as  other 
causes  of  anxiety.  But  my  fears  I  acknowledge,  "  stick 
deep,"  because  I  see  in  the  gloomy  aspect  of  affairs  not  so 
much  the  fruit  of  any  mistaken  policy  or  injudicious  tena- 
city of  mischievous  restrictions,  as  the  symptoms  of  that 
inevitable  decay,  which  I  have  long  anticipated  from  the 
loss  of  that  monopoly  of  the  market  of  the  world  which  we 
have  enjoyed  for  the  last  eighty  years,  and  of  which  the 
growing  skill  and  industry  of  other  nations  must,  sooner  or 
later,  have  deprived  us.  The  crisis  may  have  been  accele- 
rated by  bad  management,  and  may  be  softened,  or  warded 
off,  for  a  short  time,  (long  enough,  though,  I  hope  for  you 
and  me,)  by  good.  But  I  do  not  see  that  it  can  he  pre- 
25* 


294  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

vented,  and  am  persuaded  that  within  twenty  years, 
and  probahly  much  sooner,  we  are  doomed  to  a  greater 
revolution  than  is  yet  recorded  in  our  history.  Do  satisfy 
me,  if  you  can,  that  these  are  the  dreams  of  a  poor  pro- 
vincial invalid,  and,  at  all  events,  persuade  yourself  that 
they  are,  if  it  would  give  you  any  serious  uneasiness  to 
think  otherwise,  &c. — God  bless  you,  and  ever  very  faith- 
fully yours. 

168. — To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq. 

Craigcrook,  16th  October,  1842. 

My  dear  Dickens — A  thousand  thanks  to  you  for  your 
charming  book  !*  and  for  all  the  pleasure,  profit,  and  relief 
it  has  afforded  me.  You  have  been  very  tender  to  our 
sensitive  friends  beyond  sea,  and  really  said  nothing  which 
should  give  any  serious  offence  to  any  moderately  rational 
patriot  among  them.  The  Slavers,  of  course,  will  give  you 
no  quarter,  and  I  suppose  you  did  not  expect  they  should. 
But  I  do  not  think  you  could  have  said  less,  and  my  whole 
heart  goes  along  with  every  word  you  have  written.  Some 
people  will  be  angry  too,  that  you  have  been  so  strict  to 
observe  their  spitting,  and  neglect  of  ablutions,  &c.  And 
more,  that  you  should  have  spoken  with  so  little  reverence 
of  their  courts  of  law  and  state  legislature,  and  even  of 
their  grand  Congress  itself.  But  all  this  latter  part  is  done 
in  such  a  spirit  of  good-humoured  playfulness,  and  so  mixe~d 
up  with  clear  intimations  that  you  have  quite  as  little  vene- 
ration for  things  of  the  same  sort  at  home,  that  it  will  not 
be  easy  to  represent  it  as  the  fruit  of  English  insolence 
and  envy. 

As  to  the  rest,  I  think  you  have  perfectly  accomplished 
all  that  you  profess  or  undertake  to  do  ;  and  that  the  world 
has  never  yet  seen  a  more  faithful,  graphic,  amusing,  kind- 

*  On  America. 


TO   CHAELES    DICKENS.  295 

hearted  narrative  than  you  have  now  bestowed  on  it. 
Always  graceful  and  lively,  and  sparkling  and  indulgent, 
and  yet  relieved,  or  rather  (in  the  French  sense  of  the 
word)  exalted  by  so  many  suggestions  of  deep  thought,  and 
so  many  touches  of  tender  and  generous  sympathy,  (caught 
at  once,  and  recognised  like  the  signs  of  free  masonry,  by 
all  whose  hearts  have  been  instructed  in  these  mysteries,) 
that  it  must  be  our  own  faults  if  we  are  not  as  much-  im- 
proved as  delighted  by  the  perusal.  Your  account  of  the 
silent  or  solitary  imprisonment  system  is  as  pathetic  and 
powerful  a  piece  of  writing  as  I  have  ever  seen  ;  and  your 
sweet,  airy  little  snatch  of  the  happy  little  woman,  taking 
her  new  babe  home  to  her  young  husband,  and  your  manly 
and  feeling  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  poor  Irish,  (or  rather 
of  the  affectionate  poor  of  all  races  and .  tongues,)  who  are 
patient  and  tender  to  their  children,  under  circumstances 
which  would  make  half  the  exemplary  parents  among  the 
rich  monsters  of  selfishness  and  discontent,  remind  us  that 
we  have  still  among  us  the  creator  of  Nelly,  and  Smike, 
and  the  schoolmaster,  and  his  dying  pupil,  &c.  j  and  must 
continue  to  win  for  you  still  more  of  that  homage  of  the 
heart,  that  love  and  esteem  of  the  just  and  the  good,  which, 
though  it  should  never  be  disjoined  from  them,  I  think  you 
must  already  feel  to  be  better  than  fortune  or  fame. 

Well,  I  have  no  doubt  your  3000  copies  will  be  sold  in 
a  week,  and  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  that  they  have  put 
X1000  at  least  into  your  pocket.  Many  people  will  say 
that  the  work  is  a  slight  one,  and  say  it  perhaps  truly. 
But  every  body  will  read  it ;  and  read  it  with  pleasure  to 
themselves,  and  growing  regard  for  the  author.  More — 
and  perhaps  with  better  reason,  for  I  am  mys£lf  in  the  num- 
ber— will  think  there  is  rather  too  much  of  Laura  Bridg- 
man  and  penitentiaries,  &c.,  in  general.  But  that,  I  be 
lieve,  is  chiefly  because  we  grudge  being  so  long  parted 
from  the  personal  presence  of  our  entertainer  as  we  are 


296  LIFE   OF'  LORD   JEFFREY. 

by  these  interludes,  and  therefore  we  hope  to  be  forgiven 
by  him. 

And  BO  God  bless  you !  and  prosper  you  in  all  your 
undertakings,  and  with  best  love  and  heartiest  congratula- 
tions to  my  dear  Mrs.  Dickens  (for  here  is  an  Exchequer 
process  come  in  for  me  to  dispose  of). — Believe  me  always 
very  affectionately  yours. 

Having  got  my  head  out  of  Exchequer  sooner  than  I 
expected,  I  will  not  let  this  go  without  telling  you  that  I 
continue  tolerably  well,  though  not  without  apprehension 
of  the  depressing  effects  of  the  coming  winter,  and  great 
reliance,  therefore,  on  the  cordial  you  have  almost  promised 
to  administer  before  its  deepest  gloom  is  over.  I  do  not 
wish  to  let  you  forget  this  promise, — but  can  never  wish, 
as  you  must  know,  that  you  should  keep  it  with  any  in- 
convenience to  yourself.  I  have  strong  hopes  of  living  to 
see  you  in  London  in  spring. 

We  had  letters  the  other  day  from  New  York,  where 
your  memory,  and  the  love  of  you,  is  still  as  fresh  as  ever. 
Good  bye  h 


169. — To  John  Richardson,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  Wednesday  Evening, 

30th  November,  1842. 

My  dear  Richardson — A  great  sorrow  has  fallen  upon 
you,*  and  you  must  bear  it !  and  what  more  is  there  to 
say  ?  I  need  not  tell  you  that  we  mourn  over  you,  and 
over  the  extinction  of  that  young  life,  and  the  sudden 
vanishing  of  those  opening  prospects  and  innocent  hopes 
that  shed  a  Cheering  influence  on  our  old  hearts,  and 
seemed  yet  to  connect  us,  in  sympathy  and  affection,  with 
a  futurity  which  we  were  not  ourselves  very  likely  to  see. 
And  all  this  is  over,  and  she  is  gone  !  and  we  are  left  to 

*  By  the  death  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Reeve. 


TO  JOHN   RICHARDSON.  297 

wonder  and  repine,  and  yet  to  cling  to  what  is  left  us  of 
existence,  and  to  feel  that  there  are  duties  and  affections 
that  yet  remain  to  us,  and  interests  and  sources  of  enjoy- 
ment too,  that  will  spring  up  anew  when  this  blight  and 
darkening  have  passed  over.  God  help  us  !  We  must  be 
as  we  are,  and  we  must  suffer  and  wait  for  healing,  and  do 
what  we  can  to  anticipate  the  time  of  our  restoration,  and 
force  ourselves  therefore  to  dwell  most  on  those  considera- 
tions, which,  though  belonging  to  impressions  which  must 
still  engross  us,  are  likely  to  give  them  some  character  of 
soothing  and  comfort.  All  her  past  life  was  happy,  and 
blameless,  and  amiable.  It  must  always  be  grateful  (and 
a  cause  of  gratitude)  to  think  of  this.  Then  you  did  your 
duty,  gently  and  faithfully,  to  her,  and  much  of  her  en- 
joyment was  owing  to  your  kindness  and  watchful  tove. 
•There"  must  be  unspeakable  and  unfailing  comfort  in  that 
reflection.  But  you  know  all  this,  and  I  am  persuaded 
you  feel  it,  and  I  only  twaddle  in  speaking  thus  to  you. 
Yet  my  heart  is  full  of  the  subject,  and  I  cannot  help  say- 
ing something.  Charlotte  has  been  more  moved  than  I 
have  seen  her  since  the  death  of  her  father;  and  indeed 
the  grief  and  sympathy  which  this  sad  event  has  called 
forth  has  been  deeper  and  more  universal  than  I  almost 
ever  remember.  • 

I  hope  Helen*  has  not  suffered  in  her  health,  and  that 
you  are  all  now  reasonably  tranquil.  You  have  fortu- 
nately dear  and  affectionate  children  still  around  you,  and 
you  must,  and  will  comfort  each  other. 

God  bless  and  support  you,  my  dear  and  kind-hearted 
old  friend. — Ever,  affectionately  yours. 

• 

*  J\lr.  Richardson's  second  daughter. 


298  LIFB   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 


170. — To  John  Ramsey  M'Culloch,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  12th  December,  1842. 

My  dear  M'Culloch — I  received  your  obliging  letter  of 
the  9th  yesterday,  and  thank  you  for  it.  I  have  also  read 
carefully  the  little  pamphlet  you  enclose,  with  the  whole 
drift  and  tenor  of  which  I  entirely  agree,  and  think  it  in- 
deed very  admirably  thought  and  expressed.  I  cannot 
say,  however,  that  I  go  so  thoroughly  along  with  all  the 
views  in  your  letter,  and  wish  I  could  feel  the  same  assur- 
ance you  seem  to  do,  as  to  our  being  in  no  danger  from 
foreign  competition,  assisted  and  aggravated  in  its  effects 
(as  we  may  surely  reckon  that  it  will  be)  by  national  jea- 
lousies and  erroneous  notions  of  self-interest.  Indeed,  if 
it  were  not  for  this  competition,  I  do  not  clearly  see  how 
the  increase  of  our  manufacturing  population  should  be  a 
subject  of  regret  or  alarm,  or  on  what  grounds  any  serious 
or  permanent  distress  need  be  apprehended,  among  these 
classes  in  particular.  I  quite  sympathise  with  you,  how- 
ever, in  your  wish  that  we  could  be  allowed  to  see  more 
than  we  are  likely  to  do,  of  the  actual  working  of  the  causes 
that  are  now  in  operation,  and  the  movements  that  are  visi- 
bly begun.*  I  am  more  modest,  however,  in  my  prayer  for 
the  gift  of  prescience  than  you  are,  and  should  be  satisfied 
to  have  a  clear  vision  of  the  condition  of  this  country  some 
time  about  the  year  1900,  before  which,  I  feel  .persuaded, 
the  problems  we  are  puzzled  about  will  all  be  substantially 
resolved.  Indeed  (if  it  were  the  same  thing  to  the  power 
who  can  alone  grant  such  prayers,)  I  should  prefer  being 
allowed  t,o  five  and  see  the  results,  in  their  actual  accom- 
plishment, rather  than  wotider  at  them  in  a  prophetic 

dream.     But  I  should  be  glad  to  have  either  of  the  boons  ! 

A 

*  Mr.  M'Culloch  had  expressed  a  wish  that  he  could  come  back  in 
about  three  hundred  years,  to  see  the  result  of  the  political  and  eco- 
nomical principles  now  in  action. 


TO   LORD   COCKBURN.  299 

I  continue  pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  and  certainly  feel 
much  relieved  by  the  later  hours  which  my  Inner  House* 
duties  allow  me  to  indulge  in.  I  also  get  on  very  com- 
fortably with  my  new  associates  ;  and  not  having  been  one 
day  out  of  court  since  May,  expect  to  get  through  this 
long  session  without  much  annoyance,  and  to  see  you  in 
town  in  April,  in  nearly  as  good  condition  as  in  former 
years,  &c. — Ever,  very  faithfully  yours. 


171. — To  Lord  Cockburn. 

Hayleybury,  26th  March,  1843. 

My  dear  C. — A  thousand  thanks  for  your  nice  letter 
which  I  found  on  my  return  yesterday  from  a  two  days' 
lark  to  London ;  in  the  course  of  which  I  saw,  in  forty- 
eight  short  hours,  ten  times  as  many  male  friends  (and 
missed  as  many  female,  for  the  most  part  my  old  friends, 
however,)  as  I  see  in  Edinburgh  in  a  year.  Empson 
and  I  ran  up  on  Thursday,  and  I  contrived  before  din- 
ner to  see  poor  Richardson  in  his  den ;  rather  low,"  at  first, 
but  busy,  as  usual,  and  very  kind,  and  affectionately 
anxious  for  all  his  friends.  Helen  has  been  pining,  and 
he  means  to  send  her,  under  the  escort  of  Reeve,  for  a 
fortnight  or  so  to  Paris.  I,  likewise,  left  my  card  for 
Bright  and  the  Berrys,  and  then  went  to  dine,  you  will 
allow  very  thankfully,  at  my  doctor's  (Holland),  where  we 
had  a  grand  party — Lady  Holland  and  Allen,  Hallam  and 
Rogers,  and  the  Cunliffes,  Crews,  and  other  dignitaries, 
and  much  pleasant  talk.  A  great  assembly  in  the  eve- 
ning— the  Sidney  Smiths — my  Lords  Campbell,  Mont- 
eagle,  and  Mahon,  with  their  spouses,  Ladies  Morley^ 
Dunstanville,  Charlemont,  &c.,  with  lots  of  other  people, 
by  whom  I  was  caressed  and  complimented  ^n  my  youth 
and  beauty,  in  a  style  of  which  you  frozen  Muscovites  of 

*  The  Court  he  had  now  remoyed  to. 


300  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  north  have  no  conception.  Next  morning,  we  had  a 
charming  breakfast  with  Rogers,  with  only  Lord  John 
Russell  and  Tommy  Moore,  both  most  gentle,  sociable, 
and  pleasant ;  and  we  all  sat  till  near  one,  when  I  called 
on  my  friends  the  Cayleys — then  on  Lady  T.  Lister — then 
to  the  Carlisles,  whom  I  did  not  find — then  to  Lady  Hol- 
land's, and  to  Macaulay's  and  Lord  Melbourne's.  Dined 
at  the  Monteagles'  with  the  Aubrey  de  Veres,  my  excel- 
lent friend  Stephens,  Milman,  John  Milnes,  and  the  Bishop 
of  Norwich,  whom  I  carried  down  in  a  cab  to  the  Berrys 
— had  much  talk  with  Lady  Morley  and  Dillon,  and  Mrs. 

Dawson  Darner,  till burst  in,  in  a  state  of  frenzy 

of  high  spirits,  and  roared  and  rattled  in  a  way  that  was 
almost  frightful,  till  he  drove  Macaulay  and  other  quiet 
people  away.  £  .•.>'•  V»  V  .  .  .«*./» 

If  I  had  stayed,  I  should  have  dined  at  Lady  Holland's 
to  meet  the  Lansdownes  and  Morpeths,  &c. ; "  but  I  had  a 
warning  of  trachea,  and  resolved  to  fly  from  it  and  regain 
my-  shades.  And  so,  after  breakfasting  with  Macaulay, 
and  making  him  read  a  bit  of  his  history,  I  went  up  to 
Lockhart's  to  see  Lady  Gifford,  and  called  in  vain  on 
Dickens,  and  we  set  off  about  three  o'clock  and  got  h^re 
quietly  to  dinner,  and  shall  stay  here  for  at  least  a  week 
to  come. 


172. —  To  Charles  Dickens  f  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  26th  December,  1843. 

Blessings  on  your  kind  heart,  my  dear  Dickens !  and 
may  it  always  be  as  light  and  full  as  it  is  kind,  and  a 
fountain  of  kindness  to  all  within  reach  of  its  beatings ! 
We  are  all  charmed  with  your  Carol ;  chiefly,  I  think,  for 
the  genuine  goodness  which  breathes  all  through  it,  and  is 
the  true  inspiring  angel  by  which  its  genius  has  been 
awakened.  The  whole  scene  of  the  Cratchetts  is  like  the 
dream  of  a  beneficent  angel  in  spite  of  its  broad  reality ; 


TO   CHARLES   DICKENS.  301 

and  little  Tiny  Tim,  in  life  and  death  almost  as  sweet  and 
as  touching  as  Nelly.  And  then  the  school-day  scene, 
with  that  large-hearted,  delicate  sister,  and  her  true  inhe- 
ritor, with  his  gall-lacking  liver,  and  milk  of  human- 
kindness  for  blood,  and  yet  all  so  natural  and  so  humbly 
and  serenely  happy  !  Well,  you  should  be  happy  your- 
self, for  you  may  be  sure  you  have  done  more  good,  and 
not  only  fastened  more  kindly  feelings,  but  prompted  more 
positive  acts  of  beneficence,  by  this  little  publication,  than 
can  be  traced  to  all  the  pulpits  and  confessionals  *in  Chris- 
tendom, since  Christmas  1842. 

A'nd  is  not  this  better  than  caricaturing  American 
knaveries,  or  lavishing  your  great  gifts  of  fancy  and  ob- 
servation on  Pecksniffs,  Dodgers,  Bailleys,  and  Moulds. 
Nor  is  this  a  mere  crotchet  of  mine,  for  nine-tenths  of 
your  readers,  I  am  convinced,*  are  of  the  same  opinion ; 
and,  accordingly,  I  prophesy  that  you  will  sell  three  times 
as  many  of  this  moral  and  pathetic  Carol  as  of  your  gro- 
tesque and  fantastical  Chuzzlewits. 

I  hope  you  have  not  fancied  that  I  think  less  frequently 
of  you,  or  love  you  less,  because  I  have  not  lately  written  to 
you.  Indeed,  it  is  not  so ;  but  I  have  been  poorly  in  health 
for  the  last  five  months,  and  advancing  age  makes  me  lazy 
and,  perhaps,  forgetful.  But  I  do  not  forget  my  benefac- 
tors, and  I  owe  too  much  to  you  not  to  have  you  con- 
stantly in  my  thoughts.  I  scarcely  know  a  single  indi- 
vidual to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  so  much  pleasure,  and 
the  means,  at  least,  of  being  made  better.  I  wish  you 
had  not  made  such  an  onslaught  on  the  Americans.  Even 
if  it  were  all  merited,  it  does  mischief,  and  no  good.  Be- 
sides, you  know  that  there  are  many  exceptions ;  and,  if 
ten  righteous  might  have  saved  a  city  once,  there  are 
surely  innocent  and  amiable  men  and  women,  and  besides 
boys  and  girls,  enough  in  that  vast  region  to  arrest  the 
proscription  of  a  nation.  I  cannot  but  hope,  therefore, 
that  you  will  relent,  before  you  have  done  with  them,  and 

VOL.  II.— 26 


'302  LIFE  OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

contrast  your  deep  shadings  with  some  redeeming  touches. 
God  bless  you.  I  most  not  say  more  to-day. — With  most 
kind  love  to  Mrs.  Dickens,  always  very  affectionately 
yours,  &c. 

Since  writing  this  in  the  morning,  and  just  as  I  was 
going  to  seal  it,  in  comes  another  copy  of  the  Carol,  with 
a  flattering  autograph  on  the  blank  page,  and  an  address 
in  your  own  "fine  Roman  hand."  I  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart  for  this  proof  of  your  remembrance,  and  am 
pleased  to  think  that,  while  I  was  so  occupied  about  you, 
you  had  not  been  forgetful  of  me.  Heaven  bless  you, 
and  all  that  are  dear  to  you. — Ever  yours,  &c. 


173. — To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  1st  February,  1844. 

My  dear  Dickens — In  the  second  place,  thanks  for  your 
kind  letter.  But,  imprimis,  still  warmer  thanks  for  your 
two  charming  chapters  of  Tom  Pinch,  which  are  in  the  old 
and  true  vein,  which  no  man  but  yourself  either  knows 
where  to  look  for,  or  how  to  work,  after  it  has  been  laid 
open  to  %11  the  world,  &c. 

It  is  not  that  at  all  I  wish  to  say  to  you.  No,  no  ;  it  is 
about  that  most  flattering  wish,  or,  more  probably,  passing 
fancy,  of  that  dear  Kate*  of  yours,  to  associate  my  name 
with  yours  over  the  baptismal  font  of  your  new-come  boy. 
My  first  impression  was,  that  it  was  a  mere  piece  of  kind 
badinage  of  hers  (or  perhaps  your  own,)  and  not  meant  to 
be  seriously  taken,  and  consequently  that  it  would  be  fool- 
ish to  take  any  notice  of  it.  But  it  has  since  occurred  to 
me,  that,  if  you  had  really  meditated  so  great  an  honour 
for  me,  you  would  naturally  think  it  strange,  if  I  did  not 
m  some  way  acknowledge  it,  and  express  the  deep  sense  I 
should  certainly  have  of  such  an  act  of  kindness.  And  so 

*  Mrs.  Dickens. 


TO   MRS.  EMPSON.  303 

I  write  now,  to  say,  in  all  fulness  and  simplicity  of  heart, 
that,  if-  such  a  thing  is  indeed  in  your  contemplation,  it 
would  be  more  flattering  and  agreeable  to  me  than  most 
things  that  have  befallen  me  in  this  mortal  pilgrimage ; 
while,  if  it  was  but  the  sportful  expression  of  a  happy  and 
confiding  playfulness,  I  shall  still  feel  grateful  for  the  com- 
munication, and  return  you  a  smile  as  cordial  as  your  own, 
and  with  full  permission  to  both  of  you  to  smile  at  the 
simplicity  which  could  not  distinguish  jest  from  earnest. 
And  such  being  the  object  of  the  missive,  I  shall  not 
plague  you  with  any  smaller  matters  for  the  present ;  only 
I  shall  not  be  satisfied,  if  the  profits  of  the  Carol  do  not 
ultimately  come  up  to  my  estimate,  &c. 

I  want  amazingly  to  see  you  rich,  and  independent  of 
all  irksome  exertions ;  and  really,  if  you  go  on  having 
more  boys,  (and  naming  them  after  poor  Scotch  plebeians,) 
you  must  make  good  bargains  and  lucky  hits,  and,  above 
air,  accommodate  yourself  oftener  to  that  deeper  and  higher 
tone  of  human  feeling,  which,  you  now  see  experimentally, 
is  more  surely  and  steadily  popular  than  any  display  of 
fancy,  or  magical  power  of  observation  and  description 
combined.  And  so  God  be  with  you,  &c. — Always  very 
affectionately  yours. 

174. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Tuesday,  27th  February,  1844. 

Seven  o'clock. — No  afternoon  letters  yet,  though  we  have 
had  neither  snow  nor  blow  since  last  night.  However,  we 
have  had  your  Saturday's  despatch  this  morning,  and  are 
thankful.  It  brightened,  and  grew  very  cold  last  night, 
and  I  went  to  sleep  under  five  blankets  !  with  thermometer 
at  twenty-one,  and  a  fierce  twinkling  moon  very  far  to  the 
north.  But  it  relented  before  morning,  and  this  day  has 
been  sweet  and  vernal — a  soft  south  wind  and  a  cheerful 
sun  ;  and,  except  that  the  melting  snow  made  things  sloppy, 


304  LIFE   OF  LORD   JEFFREY. 

every  thing  very  amiable.  Thermometer  at  'forty-one. 
We  drove  down  to  the  pier,*  and  resumed  our  terraqueous 
promenade  after  a  five  days'  interruption.  Very  gay  and 
grand  also,  the  bright  waves  leaping  and  clapping  their 
hands  beneath  us,  and  the  shores  rising  sunny  and  speckly, 
with  tracts  of  bright  snow  and  black  woodland,  on  the 
near  slopes,  and  the  remoter  mountains  shining  like  sum- 
mer clouds  in  their  untainted  whiteness,  &c. 

We  had  two  cases  adjusted  to-day,  and  yet  out  early, 
so  that  I  had  near  an  hour  at  the  Exhibition, f  and  saw 
many  things  to  admire.  The  two  pictures  that  interested 
me  most  were  both  very  Scottish,  and  I  think  would  touch 
your  simple  Scotch  heart,  as  they  did  mine.  One  is  a  shep- 
herd's funeral  ;|  the  coffin  journeying,  in  a  still,  dullish 
autumn  day,  in  a  slight  made  cart,  across  a  true  Scottish 
upland,  with  an  ancient  feeble  driver,  and  the  stiff  pensive 
colly ,  stepping  languidly  by  his  side,  a  worn  out  rough  old 
pony  in  the  harness,  and  a  long  train  of  plaided  mourners, 
of  all  ages,  wending  soberly  behind.  It  is  really  very 
well  painted,  and  has  been  sold  for  .£250.  The  other  is 
still  more  pathetic  to  my  feelings.  It  is  the  departure  of 
a  company  of  Highland  emigrants  for  foreign  shores — a 
beautiful,  though  bare  and  rugged  Highland  landscape, 
with  a  soft  summer  sea  sleeping  among  the  rocks,  and 
under  the  light  haze -of  the  dawning.  The  large  emigrant 
ship  looms  dim  and  dark  in  the  soft  mist,  and  a  large  barge 
is  rowing  towards  it,  in  which  plaided  and  snooded  figures 
are  crowded,  waving  bonnets  and  hands  j  while  on  the 
beach  is  the  broken-down  and  deserted  grandfather,  stoop- 
ing with  his  bald  temples  and  clasped  hands,  in  an  attitude 
of  speechless  sorrow,  while  the  ancient  dame  sits  crouch- 
ing before  him,  with  her  plaid  drawn  close  round  her  head, 

*  Of  Leith. 

f  The  Annual  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Scottish  Academy  of  Painting, 
&c. 

J  By  Mr.  George  Harvey,  Edinburgh. 


TO  MRS.  A.  RUTHERFURD.  305 

unable  to  bear  the  sight  of  that  parting ;  and  a  beautiful 
young  sheep-dog  is  howling,  with  his  nose  in"  the  air,  at 
thet  furthest  point  of  the  promontory.  I  have  seldom  seen 
a  picture  I  should  like  more  to  have,  though  I  could  not 
look  at  it  without  tears.*  No  post  yet,  &c. — Ever  yours. 


175.— To  Mrs.  A.  Rut&erfurd. 

E.  I.  College,  Thursday,  9th  May,  1844. 

I  am  a  great  deal  better,  and  really  angry  at  myself  for 
having  been  so  ill  as  to  give  you  so  much  uneasiness.  For 
ten  days,  to  be  sure,  I  was  ill  enough,  and  after  near  a 
fortnight  in  bed  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  very  strong  yet. 
But  the  fever  I  think  is  gone,  and  the  cough  I  hope  going, 
and  I  now  actually  contemplate  being  able  to  embark  in 
the  train  of  Wednesday  next  for  Lancaster,  which  will 
bring  me  to  Edinburgh  with  all  my  little  ones  on  Saturday, 
just  time  enough  to  be  ready  for  our  meeting  on  Tues- 
day, &c. 

These  warnings  come  thick,  you  see,  my  Sophy,  and  if 
the  next  should  usher  in  the  actual  striking  of  the  hour,  it 
cannot  be  said  to  have  come  without  notice.  But  I  am 
very  calm  and  tranquil  with  all  this  consciousness ;  and 
never  was  more  cheerful,  and  indeed  inwardly  happy,  than 
I  have  been  through  all  thia  last  visitation. 

I  should  have  written  to  you  as  soon  as  I  was  able  to 
write,  had  I  not  been  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  your  where- 
abouts. As  it  was,  I  wrote  to  Cockburn  on  the  first  distinct 
mending,  and  I  hope  he  will  have  communicated  with  you 
before  this  can  reach  you. 

I  hope  you  are  yourself*  quite  well  and  enjoying  this 
beautiful  weather — all  the  mornings  at  least  at  Lauriston. 
Here  it  has  been  rather  too  hot.  Ther.  in  the  shade  at 
this  moment  .76,  and  the  nightingales  thundering  as  loud 

*  It  was  by  Mr.  J.  C.  Brown,  Edinburgh. 

26*  U 


306  LIFE   OF -LORD   JEFFREY. 

as  the  cuckoo.      God  bless  you  always,    my  very  dear 
Sophia. — Ever  affectionately  yours. 

''• 
176.— To  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

(The  widow  of  the  late  Archd.  Fletcher,  Esq.,  Advocate.) 

Berwick,  Friday  Night,  14th ,  1844. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Fletcher — You  will  see  from  this  date 
that  we  cannot  avail  ourselves  this  time  of  your  most  kind 
offer  of  a  meeting  at  Kendal,  &c. 

I  was  sure  you  would  like  Empson's  Memorial  of  Arnold. 
There  was  so  much  of  true  heart  in  it,  that  it  could  not 
but  go  to  all  true  hearts.  I  do  not  think  he  ever  loved  or 
venerated  a  living  creature  so  deeply  as  he  does  his  me- 
mory; and  I  believe  he  has  not  yet  done  with  him,  as  you 
may  probably  see  in  the  next  number  of  the  Edinburgh. 

Alas,  for  poor  Sidney !  and  poor  Bobus*  has  gone 
swiftly  after  him  !  What  havoc  death  has  been  making 
among  the  seniors  since  last  Christmas !  I  hope  he  will 
now  hold  his  hand  a  little,  or,  at  all  events,  allow  you  and 
me  to  look  upon  one  another  once  more  through  the  eyes 
of  the  flesh,  however  dim  some  of  them  may  be  waxing. 
There  is  no  sight,  I  am  sure,  that  would  rejoice  mine  so 
much.  For  of  all  that  are  left  me  from  the  old  days  of 
our  youth,  there  is  no  one  whom  I  love  so  tenderly,  trust 
so  entirely,  or  respect  so  uniformly,  as  you ;  and  if  you  do 
not  know  it,  why  you  scarcely  deserve  to  have  it  said  or 
thought  of  you. 

My  friends  have  been  very  kind  to  me  in  coming  to  my 
simple  haphazard  little  assemblies.  To  me  they  were  un- 
doubtedly very  pleasant,  and  partly,  I  daresay,  to  that 
sort  of  revival  of  old  usages  to  which  you  refer ;  and  I 
think  they  could  not  have  been  unpleasant  to  those  who 
came  back  to  them  so  frequently  and  freely,  &c. — Ever, 
.ny  dear  Mrs.  Fletcher,  very  affectionately  yours. 

*  Mr.  Sidney  Smith's  brother. 


TO   MRS.   EMPSON.  307 


177. — To  Mrs.  Empson. 

July,  1844. 

Well, and  I  had  our  walk  all  over  the  fields,  and 

gathered  a  good  basket  of  mushrooms.  Our  talk*  to-day 
was  of  the  difference  between  plants  and  animals,  and 
of  the  half-life  and  volition  that  were  indicated  by  the 
former ;  and  of  the  goodness  of  God,  in  making  flowers  so 
beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  us  capable  of  receiving  pleasure 
from  their  beauty,  which  the  other  animals  are  not ;  and 
then  a  picture  by  me  of  the  first  trial  flights  and  adven- 
tures of  a  brood  of  young  birds,  when  first  encouraged  by 
their  mother  to  trust  themselves  to  the  air — which  excited 
great  interest,  especially  the  dialogue  parts  between  the 
mother  and  the  young.  She  has  got  a  tame  jackdaw,  whose 
voracity  in  gobbling  slips  of  raw  meat,  cut  into  the  sem- 
blance of  worms,  she  very  much  admires,  as"  well  as  his 
pale  blue  eyes.  She  was  pleased  to  tell  me  yesterday, 
with  furious  bursts  of  laughter,  that  I  was  "  an  old  man," 
"  very  old ;"  and  was  with  difficulty  persuaded  to  admit 
that  Flushf  (the  true  original  old  man)  was  a  good  deal 
older. 

I  hope  I  am  better ;  though  I  am  very  glad  to  think, 
that  in  three  weeks  more  I  shall  be  free  from  the  courts. 
I  am  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open  air,  and  still  have 
my  evening  walks,  even  when  it  is  chilly. 

I  have  got  Arnold's  Life,  &c. ;  but  have  scarcely  had 
time  to  read  any  of  it  yet,  the  courts  taking  a  good  deal  of 
time,  and  my  out-door  lounges  no  little.  But  I  shall  begin 
it  seriously  to-night.  I  could  not  stop  reading  that  admi- 
rable review  of  Stephens  on  the  Clapham  Worthies,  which 
is  all  charmingly  written,  and  many  passages  inimitably. 

*  Witfc  his  grandchild  Charlotte.  f  An  old  dog. 


308  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

The  sketches  of  Granville  Sharpe,  C.  Simeon,  and  Lord 
Teignmouth,  are,  beyond  comparison,  superior  to  any  of 

's  elaborate  portraits,  or  even  any  of  Macaulay's 

stronger  pictures,  in  vivacity  and  force  of  colouring,  as 
•well  as  in  that  soft  tone  of  angelic  pity  and  indulgence, 
which  gives  its  character  to  the  whole  piece.  The  eulogies 
of  II.  Thornton  and  H.  Martyn  are  rather  overdone,  I 
think;  but  Zac.  Macaulay  is  excellent,  and  so  are  the 
slighter  sketches  of  Will.  Smith  and  the  paternal  Stephens. 
I  hope  they  will  give  you  as  much  pleasure  as  they  have 
given  me.  They  are  so  much  in  accordance,  indeed,  with 
all  I  love  and  admire  in  human  writings,  that  I  feel  as  if 
they  had  been  intended  for  my  especial  gratification.  I 
have  also  read  a  volume  of  the  Mysteries  of  Paris,  and 
been  much  touched  and  delighted  with  the  gentle  and  in- 
nocent pictures,  but  tempted  to  pass  over  much  of  the 
horrors.  It  is  a  book  of  genius  undoubtedly;  but  how 
utterly  regardless  is  that  class  of  writers  of  not  the  pro- 
bable only,  but  the  possible!  and  how  much  does  the 
superiority  of  Sir  Walter  appear  in  his  producing  equal 
effects,  without  such  sacrifices.  Heaven  bless  you. — Ever 
most  affectionately  yours. 


178.— To  Mr.  Dickens. 

Edinburgh,  12th  December,  1844. 

Blessings  on  your  kind  heart,  my  dearest  Dickens,  for 
that,  after  all,  is  your  great  talisman,  and  the  gift  for 
which  you  will  be  not  only  most  loved,  but  longest  remem- 
bered. Your  kind  and  courageous  advocacy  of  the  rights 
of  the  poor — your  generous  assertion,  and  touching  dis- 
plays, of  their  virtues,  and  the  delicacy  as  well  as  the 
warmth  of  their  affections,  have  done  more  to  soothe  de- 
sponding worth — to  waken  sleeping  (almost  dead)  humani- 
ties— and  to  shame  even  selfish  brutality,  than  #11  the  other 


TO   MR.   DICKENS.  309 

writings  of  the  age,  and  make  it,  and  all  that  are  to  come 
after,  your  debtors. 

Well,  you  understand  from  this  (though  it  was  all  true 
before)  that  the  music  of  your  chimes  had  reached  me,  and 
resounded  through  my  heart,  and  that  I  thank  you  with 
all  that  is  left  of  it. 

I  think  I  need  not  say  that  I  have  been  charmed  with 
them,  or  even  after  what  fashion,  or  by  what  notes  prin- 
cipally. You  know  me  well  enough  to  make  that  out 
without  prompting.  But  I  could  not  reserve  my  tears  for 
your  third  part.  From  the  meeting  with  "^ill  on  the  street, 
they  flowed  and  ebbed  at  your  bidding ;  and  I  know  you 
will  forgive  me  for  saying  that  my  interest  in  the  story 
began  there.  Your  opening  chorus  of  the  church-going 
wind  is  full  of  poetry  and  painting,  and  the  meeting  of 
Trotty  and  Meg  very  sweet  and  graceful.  But  I  do  not 
care  about  your  Alderman  and  his  twaddling  friends,  and 
think  their  long  prosing  in  the  street  dull  and  unnatural. 
But  after  Will  and  Lillian  come  on  the  scene,  it  is  all  de- 
licious, every  bit  of  it — the  .vision  as  well  as  the  reality; 
and  the  stern  and  terrible  pictures  of  (the  visionary)  Will 
and  the  child,  as  well  as  the  angel  sweetness  of  Meg,  and 
the  expiating  agony  of  poor  Lillian.  The  delicacy  with 
which  her  story  is  left  mostly  in  shadow,  and  the  thrilling 
pathos  of  both  her  dialogues  with  Meg,  are  beyond  the 
reach  of  any  pen  but  your  own,  and  it  never  did  any  thing 
better.  And  yet  I  have  felt  the  pathos  of  those  parts, 
and  indeed  throughout,  almost  painfully  oppressive.  Sa- 
native, I  dare  say,  to  the  spirit,  but  making  us  despise  and 
loathe  ourselves  for  passing  our  days  in  luxury,  while  better 
and  gentler  creatures  are  living  such  lives  as  make  us 
wonder  that  such  things  can  be  in  a  society  of  human 
beings,  or  even  in  the  world  of  a  gqod  God. 

Your  Bell  spirits,  and  all  the  secrets  of  their  race,  is  a 
fine  German  extravaganza,  and  shows  that  if  you  did  not 
prefer  "stooping  to  truth,  and  moralizing  your  song,"  you 


310  LIFE   OP   LORD   JEFFREY. 

could  easily  beat  all  the  Teutonic  mystices  and  ghost  seers 
to  sticks  at  their  own  weapons.  It  is  a  better  contrived, 
and  far  more  richly  adorned,  machinery  than  the  Christmas 

incarnations  that  exercised  the  demon  of ,  though, 

by  the  way,  there  is  less  poetical  justice  in  frightening 
poor  innocent  Trotty  with  such  a  tissue  of  horrors  as  might 
be  requisite  to  soften  the  stony  heart  of  the  miser. 

I  run  no  risk  in  predicting  that  you  will  have  a  great 
run,  and  may  start  with  10,000  copies.  Yet  there  will 
be  more  objections  this  time  than  the  last.  The  aldermen, 
and  justices,  friends,  and  fathers,  &c.,  and  in  short  all  the 
tribe  of  selfishness,  and  cowardice,  and  cant,  will  hate  you 
in  their  hearts,  and  cavil  when  they  can ;  will  accuse  you 
of  wicked  exaggeration,  and  excitement  to  discontent,  and 
what  they  pleasantly  call  disaffection!  But  never  mind — 
the  good  and  the  brave  are  with  you,  and  the  truth  also, 
and  in  that  sign  you  will  conquer. 

I  started  when  I  found  you  dating  from  London,  and 
can  scarcely  believe  that  you  have  really  been  there  and 
back  again !  But  I  do  hope  you  are  back  safely,  and  have 
not  been  snuffed  out,  and  pulled  from  under  the  snow,  by 
the  St.  Bernard  retrievers.  Do  not  cross  those  ridges 
again  though,  in  mid-winter.  I  am  charmed  with  your 
accounts  of  my  boy,  and  hope  his  sweet  mother  loves  him 
as  much  as  you  do.  I  hope  too  that  she  likes  Italy,  and 
yet  does  not  forget  Britain.  I  can  excuse  her  preferring 
her  present  abode  for  the  winter.  But  when  our  own  mild, 
moist,  ever-green  summer  comes,  you  must  all  return  to 
us.  I  am  in  better  hope  of  living  till  then  than  I  was 
when  I  came  here  in  October.  Neither  the  winter  nor  the 
work  have  done  me  any  harm,  but  good  rather;  and, 
though  a  poor  enough  creature  still,  I  am  better  than  I 
was,  and  live  a  very  .tranquil  and  rather  happy  sort  of 
life.  And  so  God  bless  you,  and  your  true-hearted  Ca- 
therine, and  my  boy,  and  all  of  you ! — Ever  affectionately 
yours. 


TO   LOKD   COCKBURN.  311 


179. — To  Lord  CocHurn. 

East  Indian  Cottage,  Hertford, 
26th  March,  1845. 

My  dear  C. — I  think  I  should  like  to  hear  from  you ; 
and  so  I  make  it  a  duty,  hy  thus  writing  to  you.  You 
have  heard,  of  course,  of  our  safe  arrival,  after  the  pains 
and  perils  of  our  wintry  journey.  I  have  little  to  tell  you 
of  the  quiet,  innocent  patriarchal  life,  we  have  been  since 
living,  in  peace,  love,  and  humility,  and  utterly  undis- 
turbed by  the  vices  and  vanities,  the  luxuries  and  ambi- 
tions, that  prey  upon  you  men  of  the  world.  The  col- 
lege, too,  is  luckily  in  vacation,  which  helps  the  deep 
tranquillity  of  our  contemplative  existence.  And  so  I 
have  been  reading  the  Leviathan  and  the  Odyssey,  and 
the  works  of  Sir  H.  Vane,  and  Milton,  political  prose, 
and  trudging  about  on  the  upland  commons,  which  are  all 
sprinkled  with  lambs,  and  under  a  sky  all  alive  with  larks, 
and  meditating  at  eve,  and  holding  large  discourse  with 
Empson,  upon  things  past  and  future,  and  present  and 
possible ;  eating  little,  and  drinking  less,  and  sleeping 
least  of  all ;  but  possessing  my  heart  in  patience,  and  en- 
vying the  robustious  as  little  as  I  can.  We  are  to  have 
my  eloquent  dreamy  friend  Stephens  for  some  days  after 
Saturday,  and  perhaps  Hallam  ;  and  in  the  mean  time  I 
have  occasional  colloquies  with  Jones  on  political  economy, 
and  the  prospects  of  the  world  when  machinery  has  super- 
seded all  labour  but  that  of  engine-makers,  and  when 
there  is  an  end  of  established  churches.  We  have  got 
spring  at  last,  though  every  thing  is  ver^  backward,  and 
I  never  saw  these  meadows  so  little  green,  or  these  woods 
so  utterly  dead.  How  are  you  at  Bonaly  ? 

Has  anybody  thought  of  taking  up  my  Tuesday  and 
Friday  evenings  ?  which,  upon  looking  back  to  them,  seem 
to  me  like  a  faint,  but  not  quite  unsuccessful,  revival  of  a 


812  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

style  of  society  which  was  thought  to  have  some  attraction 
in  the  hands  of  Dugald  Stewart  and  some  others ;  though, 
I  fear,  we  have  now  fallen  in  an  age  too  late  for  such  a 
revival,  and  that  nothing  but  an  amiable  consideration  for 
my  infirmities  could  have  given  it  the  success  it  had.  We 
have  had  bad  accounts  of  poor  Macvey  Napier,*  and 
should  like  to  hear  from  some  authentic  quarter  how  he 
really  is.  The  Rutherfurds,  I  understand,  will  soon  be  in 
these  latitudes.  When  do  you  go  on  your  circuit?  and 
how  does  Jane  and  your  Australian  wanderer  come  on  ? 
Frank,  I  am  happy  to  find,  has  fully  maintained  his  cha- 
racter for  steadiness  and  heroic  adherence  to  duty.  Now, 
let  me  have  a  good  large  sheet,  full  of  gossip,  and  queries, 
and  admonitions. 


180.— To  Mrs.  Sidney  Smith. 

Craigcrook,  14th  June,  1846. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Smith — I  do  not  systematically  destroy 
my  letters,  but  I  take  no  care  of  them,  and  very  few  I 
fear  have  been  preserved,  or  remain  accessible.  I  shall 
make  a  search,  however,  and  send  you  all  I  can  recover. 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear,  some  little  time  ago,  that 
Moore  had  agreed  to  assist  in  preparing  the  Memorialf 
about  which  you  are  naturally  so  much  interested.  He 
will  do  it,  I  am  sure,  in  a  right  spirit,  and  with  the  feel- 
ing that  we  are  all  anxious  to  see  brought  to  its  execution. 
Then,  he  writes  gracefully,  and  is  so  great  a  favourite 
with  the  public,  that  the  addition  of  his  name  cannot  fail 
to  be  a  great  recommendation. 

If  it  occurs  to  me,  on  reflection,  that  if  there  is  any  thing 
I  can  contribute,  in  the  way  you  suggest,  I  shall  be  most 
happy  to  have  my  name  associated  with  his  on  such  an 
occasion. 

*  His  success  in  editing  the  Review.  f  Of  her  husband. 


TO   SIR   GEORGE   SINCLAIR.  313 

You  know  it  must  always  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  com- 
ply with  any  request  of  yours  ;  and  the  form  in  which  you 
ask  this  to  be  done  is  certainly  that  which  I  should  prefer 
to  any  other  ;  yet  the  models  to  which  you  refer  might 
well  deter  me  from  attempting  any  thing  that  might  lead 
to  a  comparison. 

I  am  glad  to  think  of  you  at  Munden  rather  than  in 
Green  Street  in  this  charming  weather,  and  beg  to  be 
most  kindly  remembered  there  to  my  beloved  Emily,  and 
all  her  belongings,  &c. — Ever  very  affectionately  yours. 


181. — To  Sir  G-eorge  Sinclair. 

Craigcrook,  Blackball. 
Saturday,  1st  August,  1846. 

My  dear  Sir  George — Indeed,  indeed,  you  have  mis- 
taken, or  done  me  wrong.  I  am  not  at  all  changed  to 
you,  and  have  the  same  belief  in  your  kind  heart,  large 
philanthropy,  and  unutterable  sweetness  of  temper,  as  I 
ever  had ;  and  the  same  sense,  too,  of  your  invariable 
kindness  to  me.  But  our  ways  of  life  have  lately  been 
more  apart,  and  for  some  years  back  my  health  has  been 
'so  much  broken,  that  I  have  rarely  been  able  for  more 
than  the  indispensable  duties  of  my  place,  and  had  there- 
fore, I  doubt  not,  to  neglect  many  other  duties,  which  are 
at  least  as  important. 

I  have  no  distinct  recollection  of  your  ever  having 
called  on  me,  without  an  attempt  at  least,  on  my  part  to 
see  you,  and  I  am  sure,  never  without  a  wish  for  our 
meeting. 

On  the  occasion  you  mention,  I  think  I  must  have  been 
indisposed,  though  I  do  remember  having  gone  once  at 
least,  if  not  oftener,  to  look  for  you,  and  being  mortified 
on  finding  that  you  had  already  left  the  town. 

But  you  are  surely  a  little  uncharitable  in  construing  a 
circumstance  like  this,  even  if  there  were  no  explanation 

VOL.  II.— 27 


LIFE    OF    LORD    JEFFREY. 

of  it,  into  proof  of  such  a  change  of  sentiment  on  my  part 
as  would  imply,  not  only  a  contemptible  levity  of  charac- 
ter, but  (I  must  say,  because  I  feel  it,)  a  very  hateful 
coldness  and  ingratitude  of  nature.  But  we  need  not  go 
back  upon  these  things.  I  feel  that  you  will  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  you  have  been  mistaken — that  I  have 
never  ceased  to  regard  you  with  the  same  affection  which 
arose  in  my  mind,  from  your  first  remarkable  introduction 
to  me  by  the  old  Duchess  of  Gordon — and  which  was  rivet- 
ed and  confirmed  by  all  the  intercourse  we  had  while  we 
Bat  in  Parliament  together — that  I  was  touched,  even  to 
weeping,  by  the  extreme  tenderness  of  some  expressions  in 
your  letter  to  my  wife — and  that  she,  knowing  well  how  I 
have -always  felt  and  spoken  of  you,  though  not  so  much 
hurt  as  I  was  by  your  complaint  of  altered  feelings,  really 
was  not  less  surprised  at  it. 

But  I  must  have  done  with  this.  We  are  friends  again, 
now  at  least,  and  must  have  no  more  misunderstandings. 

I  heard  of  your  domestic  afflictions,  and  felt  for  you  I 
think  'as  I  ought.  But  while  I  hear  also  of  the  good  you 
continue  to  do  in  your  neighbourhood,  ajid  the  popularity 
you  enjoy,  I  cannot  allow  myself  to  think  that  your  exist-, 
ence  is  without  its  consolations  and  even  its  enjoyments, 
and  these  not  of  the  lowest  order.  Neither  can  I  entirely 
approve  of  your  sequestering  yourself  for  ever  in  that  re- 
mote corner.  A  man  with  so  many  friends  has  a  wider 
sphere,  both  of  duty  and  beneficence;  and  lam  persuaded 
that  you  will  soon  feel  this,  and  act  upon  it. 

For  my  own  part,  my  health,  I  am  happy  to  say,  is  now 
about  as  good  as  it  generally  is.  I  am  liable  to  frequent 
little  attacks,  which,  at  my  age,  are  alarming,  but  not  often 
attended  with  much  suffering,  and  which  I  have  learned  to 
bear  with,  I  hope,  very  tolerable  patience.  I  manage,  I 
think,  to  extract  a  fair  enough  share  of  comfort,  and  even 
of  enjoyment,  from  a  very  reduced  allowance  of  vitality. 
If  you  ever  feel  that  you  want  a  lesson  in  this  art,  I  shall 


"J      TO    MRS.  CAYLEY.  3J5 

be  too  happy  to  give  you  the  benefit  of  my  precept  and 
example.  .:: »  - 

I  am  here  now  with  my  daughter  and  her  husband  and 
their  four  children,  and  natter  myself  that  we  make  a  very 
pretty  patriarchal  household,  and  with  as  much  affection 
and  as  little  ennui  among  us,  as  in  any  patriarchal  esta- 
blishment since  the  deluge,  or  before  it.  I  wish  you  would 
come  and  see.  You  would  like  Empson,  -I  am  sure,  the 
gentleness  of  whose  disposition  and  the  kindness  of  his 
heart  often  remind  me  of  you.  I  can  scarcely  offer  you  a 
bed  while  they  are  with  me ;  but  you  could  board  here,  and 
easily  have  a  lodging  in  the  neighbourhood. 

And  so  God  bless  you,  my  dear  Sir  George ;  and  for  the 
rest  of  our  lives  believe  me,  with  all  good  wishes,  very 
affectionately  yours. 

182.— To  Mrs.  E.  Cayley. 

Craigcrook,  Blackball,  Edinburgh, 
Thursday,  6th  August,  1846. 

My  dear  Emma — It  is  unaccountable  to  myself  why  I 
have  not  answered  your  letter  long  ago.  Can  you  explain 
this  to  me  ?  I  was  thankful  enough  for  it,  I  am  sure,  and, 
indeed,  both  touched  and  flattered  by  it,  more  than  I  shall 
now  try  to  tell  you,  and  I  did  mean  to  write  immediately, 
only  one  grows  old,  and  good  for  nothing,  I  fear !  and  so 
you  must  even  be  contented  to  love  me  a  little  as  I  am,  and 
to  know  that  I  love  you,  and  shall  always,  as  long  as  there 
is  any  life  left  in  the  heart  of  this  poor  carcass. 

I  cannot  tell  you  whether  anybody  finds  my  old  age 
beautiful,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  not  unhappy  ;  and  I  really  do 
not  think  it  ought,  for  I  have  as  ready  a  sympathy  as  ever 
for  the  happiness  of  others,  and  as  great  a  capacity  for 
loving,  and  as  great  a  desire  to  be  loved.  And  though  my 
health  is  a  good  deal  broken,  and  my  animal  vitality  rather 
low,  I  rather  think  that  both  my  intellectual  and  social 


316  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

alacrity  are  as  great  as  when  we  were  first  acquainted.  I 
read  more,  I  believe,  than  I  ever  did,  (though  I  fancy  I 
forget  more  of  what  I  read,)  and  talk  (I  am  afraid)  nearly 
as  much ;  and  though  I  have  given  up  dining  out,  or  going 
much  into  general  society,  a  great  many  people  are  kind 
enough  to  come  to  me ;  and  my  days  are  at  least  as  cheer- 
ful as  when  more  of  my  hours  were  spent  in  company.  I 
have  now  my  four  grandchildren  and  their  parents,  all  un- 
der my  roof  again,  and  I  think  we  live  a  very  exemplary, 
and  not  unenviable  patriarchal  life  together,  with  as  much 
affection,  and  as  little  ennui  among  us  as  could  be  found  in 
any  patriarchal  establishment  since  the  deluge,  or  before  it. 
I  tell  you  all  this,  partly  because  you  ask  me  to  tell  you 
all  about  myself,  but  chiefly  because  I  believe  you  to  have 
a  very  genuine  relish  for'  the  patriarchal  life  yourself,  a 
will  not  dislike  to  hear  that  you  cannot  look  for  the  fu 
enjoyment  of  all  its  innocent  pleasures  till  you  are  old 
enough  to  share  them  with  the  second  generation  of  your 
descendants.  In  the  mean  time,  however,  it  is  very  pleas- 
ing to  me  to  know  that  you  have  s.o  much  satisfaction  in 
the  first ;  and  I  pray  and  trust  that  this  may  go  on  in- 
creasing, till,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  the  second  shall  come 
still  further  to  increase  it.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
Edward  for  the  kind  lift  his  partiality. led  him  to  lend  me 
in  the  estimation  of  his  son,  though  my  conscience  certainly 
does  whisper  me  that  the  judgment  of  the  junior  is,  in  this 
matter,  the  most  correct.  I  rejoice,  too,  to  find  that  you 
still  retain  unimpaired  that  delight  in  the  beautiful  aspects 
of  external  nature,  which  I  really  believe  forms  a  very 
large  part  of  the  enjoyment  of  good  people,  and  which, 
when  once  confirmed,  not  only  does  not  decay,  like  most 
other  emotions  which  come  through  the  senses,  but  seems 
rather  to  grow  more  lively  with  the  decay  of  every  thing 
else.  I  hope,  too,  that  E.  has  got  quite  over  the  shock 
which  the  sudden  loss  of  his  father  must  have  occasioned. 
Will  this  event  lead  you  to  leave  Wydale  ?  or  materially 


TO   LADY  J.  RUSSELL.  317 

affect  your  worldly  position?  When  you  write  again, 
(which  I  hope  you  will  do  soon,)  tell  me  about  Sir  George 
and  all  the  rest.  You  know  I  take  a  brother's  interest  in 
the  whole  genealogy,  and  also  about  Mary  Agnes,  of  whom 
I  had  a  glimpse  in  April,  and  was  half  provoked  to  see 
how  importantly  happy  she  looked  in  her  married  state. 

And  so  God  bless  you,  my  very  dear  Emma,  and  with 
all  good  wishes,  believe  me,  ever  very  affectionately  yours. 


183. — To  the  Hon.  the  Lady  John  Russell. 

Edinburgh,  21st  December,  1846. 

My  dear  Lady  John — I  feel  quite  obliged  to  Mr.  Fraser 
for  bringing  me  to  your  recollection ;  and  must,  therefore, 
give  you  as  favourable  an  account  of  him  as  possible,  &c. 

I  rejoice  with  you  in  the  thaw ;  though  I  cannot  say 
that  I  suffered  (except  a  little  in  mere  sensation)  from  the 
frost,  and  have  been  able  to  go  through  my  court  work 
and  my  little  evening  receptions  quite  as  well  as  last  year. 
It  is  very  good  in  you  to  remember  my  sentiments  to  you 
in  the  hotel.  I  never  pass  by  its  windows,  in  these  winter 
twilights,  without  thinking  of  you,  and  of  the  lessons  of 
cheerful  magnanimity  (as  well  as  of  other  things)  I  used 
to  learn  by  your  couch ;  though  I  am  delighted  to  learn 
that  you  are  no  longer  in  the  way  of  improving  the  world 
by  the  special  example  of  these  virtues. 

The  Murrays  and  Rutherfurds  are  particularly  well. 
The  latter  will  soon  be  up  among  you,  and  at  his  post,  for 
the  opening  of  a  campaign  of  no  common  interest  and 
anxiety.  For  my  part,  I  am  terribly  frightened,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life.  Lord  John,  I  believe,  does  not  know 
what  fear  rs.  Sans  peur  as  sans  reproche.  But  it  must 
be  a  comfort  to  know,  that  even  he  thinks  we  can  get  out 
of  the  mess  in  Ireland  without  some  dreadful  calamity ; 
and  how.  ugly,  in  fact,  do  things  look  all  found  the  world  ! 

In  spite  of  all  this,  I  must  wish  you  a  merry  Christmas  ! 

27* 


818  LIFE    OP    LORD   JEFFREY. 

and,  as  we  have  now  got  to  the  darkest  day  of  the  physical 
year,  desire  you  to  hope  that  we  may  also  find  ourselves 
at  our  social  and  political  mid-winter,  and  try  to  believe 
that  brighter  days  are  coming.  And  so,  with  all  good 
•wishes,  ever,  my  dear  Lady  John,  your  obliged  and  faith- 
ful, &c. 


184.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

Craigcrook,  Sunday,  30th  May. 

Bless  you  all,  my  darlings  !  and  keep  you  well,  and 
loving,  and  happy  !  The  world  looks  happy  here,  this 
morning,  for  May  is  going  out  rather  more  like  herself 
than  she  came  in,  or  has  hitherto  progressed.  There  was 
a  glorious  moon  last  night  and  a  bright  sun  this  morning, 
and  the  ther.  is  up  to  sixty-two,  (which,  as  it  is  only  ten 
o  clock  yet,  we  think  a  great  deal,)  and  there  is  but  little 
wind,  and  the  grass  is  of  a  deeper  green,  and  the  new 
leafing  of  the  trees  so  light,  and  tender,  and  graceful,  and 
the  sheep  so  well  washed  by  the  thunder-showers  of  yes- 
terday morning,  so  white  and  foam-like,  as  they  lie  in 
tufts  on  the  lawn,  and  the  boy  is  full  of  egg,  and  Tarley 
of  bacon,  and  Granny  does  not  go  to  church,  but  Ali  in- 
stead, and  the  horses  and  donkey,  too,  have  a  holiday,  and 
we  are  to  walk  all  together  over  the  hills  and  under  the 
greenwood,  and  not  to  do  work,  or  have  lessons  more  than 
we  like,  and  we  have  no  spite,  or  envy,  or  ambition  among 
us,  and  no  pains  (to  speak  of)  in  our  bodies,  and  no  re- 
morses, or  ennuies,  or  want  of  alacrity  in  our  minds,  and 
BO  we  have  reason,  I  think,  for  thankfulness  and  content. 

If  you  were  here  with  me,  I  could  help  you,  I  think,  to 
some  purpose,  with  the  Review  ;*  but,  at  this  distance,  I 
can  do  little  good.  I  told  you  yesterday  that  St.  Francis 
had  rather  disappointed  me,  and  that  I  liked  Tancred  very 

»  Which  Mr.  Empson  now  conducted. 


.-.*       TO    MR.  EMPSON.  319 

well,  and,  as  yet,  that  is  all  I  have  seen.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  the  time  you  have  spent  on  Burton  and  Bailey  will 
turn  out  very  well  spent.  I  think  you  have  a  better 
knack,  even  than  me,  in  touching  in  lights  and  bringing 
out  effects,  by  such  revisals,  as  I  have  less  patience  to 
watch  the  capacities  of  improvement,  and  was  more  given 
to  dash  out  and  substitute,  by  wholesale,  than  to  inter- 
weave graces  or  lace  seams ;  besides  that,  your  method 
has  the  advantage  of  startling  the  original  authors  less, 
and  may  often  leave  them,  indeed,  unconscious  (and  un- 
thankful) of  the  regeneration  thus  gradually  wrought  in 
them ;  only  do  not  make  yourself  sick,  nor  neglect  your 
other  duties,  for  the  reformation  of  those  sinners. 

I  have  had  a  walk  since  I  wrote  this,  and  met  Granny 
and  the  babes  on  the  hill,  and  brought  them  home  to  din- 
ner ;  and  now  Ali  has  returned  to  her  post  and  the  boy 
has  nestled  again  in  her  bosom,  though  he  never  seemed 
to  miss  her  absence.  It  is  but  poor  summer  yet,  and  May 
will  depart,  after  all,  without  honour  or  blessings.  There 
is  more  wind  than  I  thought  of,  and  the  feeling  of  the  air 
is  chilly,  even  at  three  o'clock.  Ther.  only  sixty-three. 
Why  the  devil  do  you  keep  so  much  of  the  heat  to  your- 
selves ?  Yet  our  lilies  are  very  superior,  but  will  be  over 
before  you  can  see  them ;  and  we  hav.e  some  china  roses, 
both  red  and  yellow,  and  plenty  of  honeysuckle,  and  some 
splendid  azalias,  and  good  peonies — though  these,  too,  will 
not  wait  your  coming — and  fair  promise  of  rhododendrons 
and  gentians,  still  in  matchless  glory,  though  hardly  a 
flower  on  the  geraniums.  You  see,  I  have  been  taking  a 
correct  survey  of  our  flora ;  and,  in  truth,  there  is  scarcely 
a  plant  that  I  have  not  visited  in  the  leisurely  stroll  of 
this  morning.  Granny  being  home,  I  have  had  no  the- 
ology, or  philosophy,  with  Tarley,  but  have  commenced 
very  peacefully  with  myself. 


320  LIFE  OF    LORD  JEFFREY. 


185.— To  Mr  i.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Sunday. 

Your  Sunday's  blessing,  is  it?  That  you  may  be  well 
sure  of;  and  here  it  is  for  you,  as  warm  and  hearty  and 
earnest  as  I  can  give  it;  and  much  good  may  it  do  your 
good  heart,  as  I  feel  !t  will,  and  to  mine  too,  that  is  not  a 
penny  the  poorer  for -giving  it.  A  nice  Sunday,  too,  it  is, 
though  more  autumnal  than  it  has  been — thermometer 
down  to  44,  and  wind  a  little  off  the  north ;  but  a  bright, 
cheerful  day,  with  clear  distances  all  round,  and  brilliant 
effects  of  light  and  shade  on  tower  and  tree,  and  hill  and 
water.  Granny  went  to  church,  and  I  read  a  very  inte- 
resting little  volume  of  "Irish  Ballad  Poetry,"  published 
by  that  poor  Duffy  of  the  Nation,  who  died  so  prematurely 
the  other  day.  There  are  some  most  pathetic,  and  many 
most  spirited,  pieces;  and  all,  with  scarcely  an  exception, 
so  entirely  national.  Do  get  the  book,  and  read  it.  I 
am  most  struck  with  Loggarth  Aroon,  after  the  two  first 
stanzas;  and  a  long,  racy,  authentic,  sounding  dirge  for 
the  Tyrconnel  Princes,  (p.  103.)  But  you  had  better  begin 
with  the  Irish  Emigrant,  and  the  Girl  of  Loch  Dan,  which 
immediately  follows,  which  will  break  you  in  more  gently 
to  the  wilder  and  more  impassioned  parts.  It  is  published 
in  1845,  and  as  a  part  of  "Duffy's  Library  of  Ireland." 
You  see  what  a  helpless  victim  I  still  am  to  these  enchan- 
ters of  the  lyre.  I  did  not  mean  to  say  but  a  word  of  this 
book  to  you,  and  here  I  am  furnishing  you  with  extracts. 
But  God  bless  all  poets !  and  you  will  not  grudge  them  a 
share  even  of  your  Sunday  benedictions.  Meggie  is 
charming.  She  and  Buckley*  had  a  long  ramble,  and 
Tusculan  disputation,  I  doubt  not,  in  our  classic  back 
garden,  among  falling  leaves  and  falling  waters ;  and  she 

*  A  nursery  maid. 


TO    CHARLES    DICKERS.  321 

has  since  had  a  good  dinner;  and  now  she  is  busked  up 
very  fine  with  all  Granny's  bracelets  and  necklaces,  with 
a  bright  handkerchief,  turban  fashion,  on  her  head,  and 
her  petticoats  looped  up,  to  show  off  one  very  resplendent 
garter ;  and  in  all  that  finery  I  left  her  insisting  on  being 
hired  as  a  maid  of  all  work, — she  would  scour  all  the 
kettles,  and  sleep  contentedly  in  the  ashes !  I  have  no 
news.  ..•«" 


186.—  To  Mr.  Charles  Dickens. 

Edinburgh,  31st  January,  1847. 

Oh,  my  dear,  dear  Dickens !  what  a  No.  5  you  have 
given  us !  I  have  so  cried  and  sobbed  over  it  last  night, 
and  again  this  morning;  and  felt  my  heart  purified  by 
those  tears,  and  blessed  and  loved  you  for  making  me  shed 
them;  and  I  never  can  bless  and  love  you  enough.  Since 
that  divine  Nelly  was  found  dead  on  her  humble  couch, 
beneath  the  snow  and  the  ivy,  there  has  been  nothing  like 
the  actual  dying  of  that  sweet  Paul,  in  the  summer  sun- 
shine of  that  lofty  room.  And  the  long  vista  that  leads 
us  so  gently  and  sadly,  and  yet  so  gracefully  and  win- 
ningly,  to  that  plain  consummation !  Every  trait  so  true, 
and  so  touching — and  yet  lightened  by  that  fearless  inno- 
cence which  goes  playfully  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and 
that  pure  affection  which  bears  the  unstained  spirit,  on  its 
soft  and  lambent  flash,  at  once  to  its  source  in  eternity. 
In  reading  of  these  delightful  children,  how  deeply  do  we 
feel  that  "of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven;"  and  how 
ashamed  of  the  contaminations  which  our  manhood  has 
received  from  the  contact  of  the  earth,  and  wonder  how 
you  should  have  been  admitted  into  that  pure  communion, 
and  so  "presumed,  an  earthly  guest,  and  drawn  Empyreal 
air,"  though  for  our  benefit  and  instruction.  Well,  I  did 
not  mean  to  say  all  this;  but  this  I  must  say,  and  you  will 
believe  it,  that  of  the  many  thousand  hearts  that  will  n>elt 

V 


322  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

and  swell  over  these  pages,  there  can  be  few  that  will  feel 
their  chain  so  deeply  as  mine,  and  scarcely  any  so  grate- 
fully. But  after  reaching  this  climax  in  the  fifth  number, 
what  are  you  to  do  with  the  fifteen  that  are  to  follow? — 
"The  wine  of  life  is  drawn,  and  nothing  left  but  the  dull 
dregs  for  this  poor  world  to  brag  of."  So  I  shall  say,  and 
fear  for  any  other  adventurer.  But  I  have  unbounded 
trust  in  your  resources,  though  I  have  a  feeling  that  you 
will  have  nothing  in  the  sequel,  if  indeed  in  your  whole 
life,  equal  to  the  pathos  and  poetry,  the  truth  and  the  ten- 
derness, of  the  four  last  pages  of  this  number,  for  those, 
at  least,  who  feel  and  judge  like  me.  I  am  most  anxious 
and  impatient,  however,  to  see  how  you  get  on,  and  begin 
already  to  conceive  how  you  may  fulfil  your  formerly  in- 
credible prediction,  that  I  should  come  to  take  an  interest 
in  Dombey  himself.  Now,  that  you  have  got  his  stony 
heart  into  the  terrible  crucible  of  affliction,  though  I  still 
retain  my  incredulity  as  to  Miss  Tox  and  the  Major,  I  feel 
that  I  (as  well  as  they)  am  but  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
potter,  and  may  be  moulded  at  your  will.  It  is  not  worth 
while,  perhaps,  to  go  back  to  the  Battle  of  Life;  but  I 
wish  to  say,  that  on  reading  it  over  a  second  time,  I  was  so 
charmed  with  the  sweet  writing  and  generous  sentiments, 
as  partly  to  forget  the  faults  of  the  story,  and  to  feel  that 
if  you  had  had  time  and  space  enough  to  develope  and 
bring  out  y.our  conception,  you  must  probably  have  dis- 
armed most  of  your  censors.  But  the  general  voice,  I 
fancy,  persists  in  refusing  it  a  place  among  your  best 
pieces.  This  Dombey,  however,  will  set  all  right,  and  make 
even  the  envious  and  jealous  ashamed  of  saying  any  thing 
against  you. 

But  I  forget  to  thank  you  for  your  most  kind  and  inte- 
resting letter  of  December  27th.  I  certainly  did  not  mean 
to  ask  you  for  the  full  and  clear,  if  not  every  way  satis- 
fact  ry,  statement  you  have  trusted  me  with.  But  I  do 
fe^  the  full  value  of  that  confidence,  and  wish  I  had  any 


TO   CHARLES   DICKENS.  323 

better  return  to  make  to  it  than  mere  thanks,  and  idle, 
because  general  advice.  I  am  rather  disappointed,  I  must 
own,  at  finding  your  embankment  still  so  small.  But  it  is 
a  great  thing  to  have  made  a  beginning,  and  laid  a  founda- 
tion ;  and  you  are  young  enough  to  reckon  on  living  many 
years  under  the  proud  roof  of  the  completed  structure, 
which  even  I  expect  to  see  ascending  in  its  splendour. 
But  when  I  consider  that  the  public  has,  upon  a  moderate 
computation,  paid  at  least  .£100,000  for  your  works,  (and 
had  a  good  bargain  too  at  the  money,)  it  is  rather  provok- 
ing to  think  that  the  author  should  not  now  have 

in   bank,    and    have    never    received,   I   suspect,    above 

.     There  must  have  been  some  mismanagement, 

I  think,  as  well  as  ill-luck,  to  have  occasioned  this  result — 
not  extravagance  on  your  part,  my  dear  Dickens — nor  even 
excessive  beneficence — but  improvident  arrangements  with 
publishers — and  too  careless  a  control  of  their  proceedings. 
But  you  are  wiser  now ;  and,  with  Foster's  kind  and  judi- 
cious help,  will  soon  redeem  the  effects  of  your  not  ungene- 
rous errors.  •  I  am  as  far  as  possible  from  grudging  you 
the  elegances  and  indulgences  which  are  suitable  to  your 
tasteful  and  liberal  nature,  and  which  you  have  so  fully 
earned  ;  and  should  indeed  be  grieved  not  to  see  you  sur- 
rounded, and  your  children  growing  up,  in  the  midst  of 
the  refinements,  which  not  only  gratify  the  relishes,  but 
improve  the  capacities,  of  a  cultivated  mind.  All  I  venture 
to  press  on  you  is  the  infinite  importance,  and  unspeakable 
comfort,  of  an  achieved  and  secure  independence;  taking 
away  all  anxiety  about  decay  of  health  or  mental  alacrity, 
or  even  that  impatience  of  task  work  which  is  apt  to 
steal  upon  free  spirits  who  would  work  harder  and  better, 
if  redeemed  from  the  yoke  of  necessity.  But  this  is  twad- 
dle enough,  and  must  be  charitably  set  down  to  the  score 
of  my  paternal  anxiety  and  senile  caution. 

How  funny  that  besoin  of  yours  for  midnight  rambling 
in  city  streets,  and  how  curious  that  Macaulay  should  have 


824  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

the  same  taste  or  fancy.  If  I  thought  tnere  was  any  such 
inspiration  as  yours  to  be  caught  by  the  practice,  I  should 
expose  my  poor  irritable  trachea,  1  think,  to  a  nocturnal 
pilgrimage  without  scruple.  But  I  fear  I  should  have  my 
venture  for  my  pains.  I  wish  I  had  time  to  discuss  the 
grounds  and  extent  of  my  preference  of  your  soft  and  ten- 
der characters,  to  the  humorous  and  grotesque  ;  but  I  can 
only  say  now,  that  I  am  as  far  as  possible  from  undervalu- 
ing the  merit,  and  even  the  charm  of  the  latter ;  only  it  is 
a  lower  and  more  imitable  style.  I  have  always  thought 
Quilp  and  Swiveller  great  marvels  of  art;  and  yet  I  should 
have  admired  the  last  far  less,  had  it  not  been  for  his  re- 
deeming gratitude  to  the  Marchioness,  and  that  inimitable 
convalescent  repast,  with  his  hand  locked  in  hers,  and  her 
tears  of  delight.  If  you  will  only  own  that  you  are  prouder 
of  that  scene,  than  of  any  of  his  antecedent  fantasticals, 
I  shall  be  satisfied  with  the  conformity  of  our  judgments. 
And  so  God  bless  you,  and  your  dear  Kate,  and  my  charm- 
ing boy,  and  all  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  all  whom  you 
love,  and  love  you — with  you,  or  at  a  distance.  I  have 
been  pretty  well  all  this  winter,  and  better,  I  think,  on  the 
whole,  than  last  year.  So  that  I  hope  to  be  able  to 
go  south  in  spring,  and  see  you  early  in  April.  Char- 
lotte is  quite  well,  and  all  rny  grandchildren,  of  whom  the 
little  delicate  fairy  one  is  still  with  us,  and  sometimes  brings 
me  rather  painfully  in  mind  of  your  poor  little  Paul — both 
from  her  fragility,  and  strong  old-fashioned  affectionate  sa- 
gacity. -But  she  is  improving  in  health,  and  I  hope  will 
not  re-enact  that  sweet  tragedy  amongst  us.  Give  my  kind 
love  to  Kate,  and  do  not  let  her  forget  me.  Name  me,  too, 
sometimes  to  the  boy.  And  so  my  dear  Dickens,  ever, 
very  affectionately  yours. 

P.  S. — Harriet  Brown  is  here  now,  and  much  flattered 
by  your  remembrance  of  her.  Will  you  not  come  and 
have  another  tete-d-tete  in  the  rumble  ?  Do  think  of  it 
for  next  summer. 


TO   MR.   EMPSON.  325 


187.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  31st  January,  1847. 

Bless  you,  great  and  small,  and  all  that  are  dear  to 
you — near  at  hand  or  far  off.  Your  Friday  letters  not 
yet  come. 

5J. — Here  are  your  letters.  But  here  is  uncle  John 
and  Harry ;  and  now  dinner — and  so. 

7. — Very  nice  parched  haddock,  and  loin  of  roast  pork 
from  Rossie,  with  apple  sauce  and  tomata. — Very  well ; — 
but  you  take  my  warning  about  Prince  Arthur*  too  se- 
riously. I  am  sure  you  will  do  what  is  right  and  kind, 
and  nothing  else.  But  I  think  the  chances  are  against 
him,  and  that  it  will  be  long  enough  before  he  gets  .£800 
a  year  in  England,  or  be  as  rich  at  the  end  of  the  next 
ten  years  by  staying  here  as  by  going  there,  however 
small  the  riches  may  be  either  way.  But  there  is  a  Pro- 
vidence to  whom  the  shaping  of  our  ends  must  be  left  after 
all,  and  in  whom  I  am  for  putting  trust  cheerfully.  Only 
teach  him  habits  of  economy  and  self-denial,  which  are  the 
humble  elements  of  proud  independence,  and  I  doubt  not 

he  will  do  very  well.  I  return  you  your  letters  and 

Stephens  to  me,  though  I  would  withhold  it  from  all  but 
you ;  both  because  these  barings  of  the  heart  should  not 
be  shown,  except  to  one's  other  self,  and  because  there  are 
expressions  of  tenderness  and  affection  for  me  which  it 
would  be  vainglorious  in  me  to  exhibit  in  any  other  quarter. 
But  you  will  not  so  judge,  nor  doubt  me,  when  I  say  that 
I  was  as  much  surprised  as  gratified  by  those  expressions, 
which  I  had  called  out  by  only  a  few  words  of  simple  and 
hearty  sympathy  with  his  late  affliction,  and  of  regard  for 
himself.  There  is  something  very  touching  in  his  fond 
and  partial  (is  it  not  ?)  account  of  the  poor  boy, — though 

*  A  nephew  of  Mr.  Empson. 
VOL.  II.— 28 


326  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

he  probably  gave  you  something  like  it  when  you  saw  him. 
I  am  better  to-day,  and  have  had  a  walk  with  Harriet 
Brown  and  by  myself.  A  snow  shower  in  the  morning, 
but  the  day  bright ;  thermometer  33,  and  a  glorious  sun- 
set. 

188.— To  Mrs.  Fletcher, 

Shanklin,  Isle  of  Wight, 
Tuesday,  20th  April,  1847. 

My  ever  dear  Mrs.  Fletcher — 

I  would  have  run  up  to  Ryde,  and  crossed  the  stormy 
water  to  look  once  more  on  your  affectionate  eyes,  and 
hear  the  kind  throb  of  your  long-remembered  voice.  But 
I  dare  not  venture  as  it  is,  and  can  only  say  God  bless  you 
ever. 

I  did  not  get  your  kind  note  till  it  was  too  late  to  answer 
it  by  the  post  of  yesterday.  We  are  all  very  well  here, 
but  the  poor  patriarch  who  is  telling  you  so — though  he  is 
generally  in  no  very  compassionate  state,  and  has  every 
reason  to  be  gratified  by  the  prompt  and  never-failing  kind- 
ness of  those  about  him,  and  is  sometimes,  he  fears,  rather 
flattered  by  the  veneration  with  which  he  is  treated,  as  the 
Methuselah  of  the  family,  by  the  imps  of  the  third  genera- 
tion. We  have  got  a  very  nice  house  here  with  a  pretty 
lawn  sloping  down  before  it :  over  the  shrubs  of  which, 
and  the  tufts  of  wood  beyond,  we  have  two  separate  peeps 
of  the  blue  and  lonely  sea.  The  village  is  very  small  and 
scattery,  all  mixed  up  with  trees,  and  lying  among  sweet 
airy  falls  and  swells  of  ground,  which  finally  rise  up  behind 
to  breezy  downs  800  feet  high  and  sink  down  in  front  to 
the  edge  of  the  varying  cliffs,  which  overhang  a  pretty 
beach  of  fine  sand,  and  are  approachable  by  a  very  striking 
wooded  ravine  which  they  call  the  Chine.  I  wish  you 
could  have  come  here  and  enjoyed  the  rural  solitude  and 
air  of  sweet  repose  which  is  the  chief  charm  of  the  place 


TO    MRS.    EMPSON.  327 

in  my  eyes.  I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant  meeting 
•with  Mrs.  Taylor,  to  whom  I  beg  to  be  kindly  remembered. 
To  Mary  I  will  not  send  less  than  my  love.  We  shall 
stay  here  till  3d  or  4th  May,  and  then  go  for  a  week  to 
Haileybury,  again  before  starting  for  the  north.  Is  there 
no  chance  of  our  meeting  before  we  put  the  Border  between 
us  ?  At  all  events,  let  me  know  the  plan  of  your  summer 
campaign.  I  'shall  be  in  quarters  at  Craigcrook,  I  believe, 
from  May  till  November ;  and  so  with  entire  respect,  and 
what  is  much  better,  most  true  love,  believe  me  always,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Fletcher,  very  affectionately  yours. 


189.— To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Craigcrook,  Sunday,  23d  May,  1847. 

Bless  you  ever !  and  this  is  my  first  right  earnest,  tran- 
quil, Sunday  blessing,  since  my  return ;  for,  the  day  after 
my  arrival,  I  was  in  a  worry  with  heaps  of  unanswered 
letters  and  neglected  arrangements.  But  to-day  I  have 
got  back  to  my  old  Sabbath  feeling  of  peace,  love,  and 
seclusion.  Granny  has  gone  to  church,  and  the  babes  and 
doggies  are  out  walking ;  and  I  have  paced  leisurely  round 
my  garden,  to  the  songs  of  hundreds  of  hymning  blackbirds 
and  thrushes,  and  stepped  stately  along  my  terrace,  among 
the  bleaters  in  the  lawn  below,  and  possessed  my  heart  in 
quietness,  and  felt  that  there  was  sweetness  in  solitude, 
and  that  the  world,  whether  to  be  left,  or  to  be  yet  awhile 
lived  in,  is  a  world  to  be  loved,  and  only  to  be  enjoyed  by 
those  who  find  objects  of  love  in  it.  And  this  is  the  sum 
of  the  matter ;  and  the  first  and  last  and  only  enduring 
condition  of  all  good  people,  when  their  fits  of  vanity  and 
ambition  are  off  them,  or  finally  sinking  to  repose.  Well, 
but  here  has  been  Tarley,  come,  of  her  own  sweet  will,  to 
tell  me,  with  a  blush  and  a  smile,  and  ever  so  little  of  a 
stammer,  that  she  would  like  if  I  Avould  walk  with  her ; 
and  we  have  been  walking,  hand  in  hand,  down  to  the 


328  LIFE  OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

bottom  of  the  quarry,  where  the  water  is  growing,  though 
slowly,  and  up  to  the  Keith's  sweetbriar  alley,  very 
sweet  and  resonant  with  music  of  birds,  and  rich  with 
cowslips  and  orchis ;  and  over  the  style  back  to  our 
domains  ;  and  been  sitting  in  the  warm  corner  by  the 
gardener's  house,  and  taking  cognisance  of  the  promise 
of  gooseberries  and  currants,  of  which  we  are  to  have 
pies,  I  think,  next  week;  and  gazing  at  the  glorious 
brightness  of  the  gentians,  and  the  rival  brightness 
of  the  peacock's  neck;  and  discoursing  of  lambs  and 
children,  and  goodness  and  happiness,  and  their  elements 
and  connections.  Less  discussion,  though,  than  usual,  in 
our  Sunday  Tusculans,  and  more  simple  chat,  as  from  one 
friend  to  another.  And  now  she  has  gone  to  sharpen  her 
teeth  for  dinner,  and  tell  as  much  as  she  likes  of  our  dis- 
ceptations ;  and  I  come  back  to  my  letter.  We  met  ^the 
boy  and  Ali  early  in  our  ramble,  and  he  took  my  other 
hand  for  a  while ;  but  Ali  would  not  trust  him  in  the 
quarry,  and  so  we  parted — on  the  brink  of  perdition — and 
he  roared  lustily  at  sight  of  our  peril.  .  You  beat  us 
terribly  as  to  weather  still ;  for  last  night  was  positively 
cold  with  us,  ther.  at  midnight  down  to  44,  and  a  keen, 
elear,  sharp-looking  sky.  To-day  it  has  not  yet  been 
above  50,  and  there  are  but  scanty  sun-gleams.  All 
which  forebodes,  if  it  does  not  ensure,  a  late  harvest, 
wliich  will  this  year  be  as  great  a  calamity  as  a  scanty 
one,  which  it  is  likely  enough  to  be  also.  I  fear  the  most 
of  the  mortality  from  famine  ;  and  pestilence  is  still  to 
come  even  for  this  year ;  and  it  is  too  painful  to  think 
of.  I  persist  in  my  early  rising,  and  am  down  at  break- 
fast every  morning  at  9J ;  so  that  you  had  better 'be 
putting  yourselves  in  training,  if  you  mean,  as  I  hope  you 
do,  to  join  with  me  in  the  rites  of  that  national  meal.  I 
rather  think,  too,  that  I  am  better  than  my  average  at 
Shanklin ;  though  I  do  not  ascribe  this  either  to  those 
virtuous  exertions,  or  the  sanitary  influence  of  my  court 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  329 

work,  and  should  be  at  a  loss,  indeed,  to  point  out  any 
specific  amendment.  A  line  from  Harriet  Brown  this 
morning :  all  very  well. 


190.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

Craigcrook,  Sunday,  1st  June,  1847. 

All  as  well  here  as  yesterday,  and  all  joining  in  Sun- 
day's blessings  on  you,  and  all  that  is  near  and  dear  to 
you.  And  is  not  this  enough  for  a  Sunday  letter  ?  and  a 
good  example — a  pattern  for  you,  when  you  are  pleased 
to  soothe  and  cheer  us  with  your  pencillings  ?  I  have 
really  very  little  else  to  tell  you.  It  was  showery  this 
morning,  so  that  Tarley  and  I  had  not  our  usual  tete-*i-t6te 
ramble.  But  we  had  a  long  and  pleasant  confabulation, 
notwithstanding,  in  which  I  initiated  her  into  the  mys- 
teries of  numeration,  and  pretty  well  taught  her  the  forms 
as  well  as  the  names  of  all  the  cyphers,  from  1  to  10,  with 
which  she  was  much  interested ;  and  after  that  we  had  a 
disputation  on  the  uses  and  pleasures  of  reading,  and  of 
the  good  and  object  of  going  to  church,  though  I  confined 
my  views  chiefly  to  the  moral  rather  than  to  the  religious 
effects.* 

After  Mam.  returned  I  read  an  hour,  with  much  and 
deep  interest,  in  Arnold's  Life  and  Letters.  He  must  have 
been  a  noble  fellow,  though  even  he  could  never  have  made 
the  system  of  our  public  schools  other  than  most  mischiev- 
ous. .  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
him,  and  hope  I  may  yet,  where  there  will  be  no  doubt 
about  creeds,  and  no  real  disagreement  among  good  people 
After  it  cleared  up,  we  all  walked  together  towards  Lau- 
riston,  &c. 

A  great  man  has  fallen  in  Israel !     Poor  Chalmers  was 

*  This  dear  child  died  on  the  4th  of  August,  1850,  aged  twelve,  having 
aurvAved  her  grandfather,  who  would  probably  not  have  survived  her  so 
long,  about  six  months. 

28* 


330  LIFE   OP  LORD  JEFFREY. 

found  dead  in  his  bed  yesterday  morning.  He  had  preached 
the  day  before,  and  sat  up  rather  late  preparing  to  make 
an  important  statement  in  Free  Church  General  Assembly 
that  very  day.  He  was,  I  think,  a  great  and  a  good  man  ; 
and  the  most  simple,  natural,  and  unassuming  religionist  I 
have  ever  known.  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  shall  hear  his 
voice  no  more. — Ever  yours. 


191.— To  Mrs.  A.  RutJierfurd. 

Craigcrook,  Monday,  21st  June,  1847. 

My  ever  dear  Sophia — You  cannot  write  a  stupid  letter 
if  you  tried.  But  I  shall  show  you  that  I  can,  and  with- 
out any  extraordinary  effort  either,  as  appeareth  by  this 
following.  I  have  no  news  to  tell  you,  and  no  gossip,  nor 
scandal.  Our  weather  has  been  summerish  of  late,  but 
never  quite  summer.  The  thermometer  seldom  up  to  60, 
and  many  showers.  But  we  are  very  green  and  blossomy, 
and  what  we  hermits  call  very  beautiful.  More  fastidious 
people  would  say  this  of  Lauriston,  which  was  never  in 
greater  glory,  though  a  glory  I  fear  the  first  flush  and 
freshness  of  which  will  have  departed  before  you  can  see 
it.  We  have  trespassed  on  its  enchanted  solitude  several 
times  of  late,  and  I  have  enjoyed  several  lonely  and  stately 
pacings  along  your  terrace,  in  the  company  of  thoughts 
which  did  no  wrong  to  its  absent  mistress.  I  need  not  say 
that  we  miss  you,  nor  even  that  we  miss  no  one  so  much, 
or  that  there  is  no  one  left  whom  we  should  miss  so  much 
if  he  (or  she)  were  to  go.  Well,  but  you  are  coming  back, 
and  though  midsummer  is  already  past,  you  will  bring 
brightness  and  warmth  to  arrest  the  chilling  of  the  year. 

This  you  must  know  is  our  sweet  Maggie's  birthday. 
Six  pleasant  years  being  over,  during  which  she  has  blos- 
somed (through  all  seasons)  by  our  side,  and  been  all  that 
time  the  light  of  our  eyes,  and  the  love  of  our  hearts.  We 
have  piled  up  a  great  bonfire  in  her  honour,  round  which 


TO    MRS.  RUTHERFURD.  331 

the  other  children,  with  Maggie  Rutherfurd  and  her  bro- 
ther (who  have  heen  much  with  us  of  late),  are  to  dance  and 
sing,  when  it  is  lighted  after  dinner ;  and  we  have  also 
hung  out  a  great  flag  on  our  topmost  tower,  which  is  waving 
proudly  in  the  wind,  and  announcing  to  all  the  country 
that  this  is  a  day  of  festival  and  genial  wishes  with  all  who 
live  under  its  shadow.  Does  your  London  finery  arm  it- 
self with  a  disdainful  smile  at  our  poor  village  holidaying  ? 
Never  mind  ; — one  f^te  in  the  long  run  is  pretty  much  as 
good  as  another,  and  the  best  perhaps  is  that  which  gives 
the  least  trouble. 

I  am  glad  you  are  well,  and  expect  to  be  much  interested 
and  egaye'  by  the  little  bits  of  your  London  experiences, 
with  which  I  reckon  on  your  entrusting  me  when  we  get 
within  whispering  distance  of  each  other  once  more.  How 
long  it  does  seem  since  you  went,  and  how  short  my  look 
forward  now  is,  to  the  day  when  we  must  part  for  a  longer 
time  !  I  am  very  tolerably  well  though,  and  not  a  bit  more 
alarmed  at  the  prospect  than  the  six-year  old  of  the  day, 
and  the  young  band  that  is  to  celebrate  that  small  anni- 
versary. We  expect  the  residuary  Empsons  in  the  first 
week  of  July,  and  fear  they  will  then  be  soon  enough  to 
welcome  your  return.  They  leave  here  about  the  28th,, 
but  are  to  stop  a  week  in  Yorkshire  with  his  relations. 

The  Cockburns  seem  very  happy  with  their  Indian 
revenant  George  and  his  little  wife,  who  is  about  to  pro- 
duce a  new  grandchild  for  them,  &c. 

And  so,  God  bless  you,  my  dear,  and  send  you  soon 
back  to  your  loving  friends,  and  your  own  quiet,  pure,  and 
innocent  shades  !  Have  I  kept  my  word  with  you  ?  and 
sent  you  a  nice  bit  of  amiable  twaddle,  and  all  quite  natu- 
rally. 

Charlotte  is  down  at  the  sea  with  the  children.  We 
have  three  female  Moreheads  here  with  us — all  very  agree- 
able, and  one  very  sick,  but  I  hope  on  the  way  of  recovery. 
Ever  and  ever  affectionately  yours. 


332  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 


192.—  To  a  Grandchild. 

Craigcrook,  21st  June,  1847. 

A  high  day  !  and  a  holiday  !  the  longest  and  the  bright- 
est of  the  year !  the  very  middle  day  of  the  summer — 
and  the  very  day  when  Maggie  first  opened  her  sweet  eyes 
on  the  light !  Bless  you  ever,  my  darling,  and  bonny 
bairn.  You  have  now  blossomed  beside  -us  for  six  pleasant 
years,  and  been  all  that  time  the  light  of  our  eyes,  and  the 
love  of  our  hearts — at  first  the  cause  of  some  tender  fears 
from  your  weakness  and  delicacy — then  of  some  little 
provocation,  from  your  too  great  love,  as  we  thought,  of 
your  own  will  and  amusement — but  now  only  of  love  and 
admiration  for  your  gentle  obedience  to  your  parents,  and 
your  sweet  yielding  to  the  wishes  of  your  younger  sister 
and  brother.  God  bless  and  keep  you  then  for  ever,  my 
delightful  and  ever  improving  child,  and  make  you,  not 
only  gay  and  happy,  as  an  angel  without  sin  and  sorrow, 
but  meek  and  mild,  like  that  heavenly  child,  who  was  once 
sent  down  to  earth  for  our  example. 

Well,  the  sun  is  shining  brightly  on  our  towers  and 
trees,  and  the  great  bonfire  is  all  piled  up  and  ready  to  be 
lighted,  when  we  come  out  after  drinking  your  health  at 
dinner ;  and  we  have  got  a  great  blue  and  yellow  flag 
hung  out  on  the  tower,  waving  proudly  in  the  wind,  and 
telling  all  the  country  around,  that  this  is  a  day  of  re- 
joicing and  thanksgiving,  and  wishes  of  happiness,  with 
all  who  live  under  -its  shadow.  And  the  servants  are  all 
to  have  a  fine  dinner,  and  wine  and  whisky  to  drink  to 
your  health,  and  all  the  young  Christies  (that  is  the  new 
gardener's  children,)  will  be  taught  to  repeat  your  name 
with  blessings ;  and,  when  they  are  drawn  up  round  the 
bonfire,  will  wonder  a  little,  I  daresay,  what  sort  of  a 
creature  this  Miss  Maggie  can  be,  that  we  are  making  all 
this  fuss  about !  and  so-  you  must  take  care,  when  you 


TO   THE   LORD   PROVOST   OF   EDINBURGH.  333 

come,  to  be  good  enough,  and  pretty  enough,  to  make 
them  understand  why  we  all  so  love  and  honour  you. 

Frankie  and  Tarley  have  been  talking  a  great  deal 
about  you  this  morning  already,  and  Granny  is  going  to 
take  them  and  Maggie  Rutherfurd  and  her  brother  down 
to  the  sea  at  Cramond — that  they  may  tell  the  fishes  and 
the  distant  shores  what  a  happy  and  hopeful  day  it  is  to 
them,  and  to  us  all.  And  so  bless  you  again,  my  sweet 
one,  for  this  and  all  future  years.  Think  kindly  of  one 
who  thinks  always  of  you ;  and  believe,  that  of  all  who 
love  you,  there  is  none  who  has  loved  you  better  or  longer, 
or  more  constantly,  than  your  loving  Grandpa. 


193. — To  the  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh. 

Craigcrook,  Thursday  Evening, 
1st  July,  1847. 

My  dear  Lord  Provost — My  health  will  not  allow  me  to 
be  at  your  meeting  ;*  but  there  will  be  no  one  there  more 
truly  anxious  for  its  success. 

I  must  confess,  however,  that  it  was  a  great  mortifica- 
tion to  me,  and  will  ever  be  a  cause  of  regret,  that  it 
should  have  been  found  necessary  thus  to  set  on  foot  a 
new  association  for  carrying  into  effect  the  objects  which 
I  certainly  understood  to  have  been  contemplated  in  Mr. 
Guthrie's  beautiful  and  admirable  appeal,  and  that  I  was 
not  in  the  least  prepared  for  those  recent  proceedings  of 
the  committees  to  which  their  promotion  was  entrusted, 
by  which  (whatever  may  have  been  intended)  it  is  now  ap- 
parent and  undeniable  that  a  large  and  very  necessitous 

*  A  public  meeting  of  the  subscribers  to  the  Original  Ragged  School ; 
called  for  the  purpose  of  having  it  clearly  ascertained,  whether  it  was 
true  that  the  establishment  was  to  be  so  exclusively  Protestant  that, 
practically,  Roman  Catholic  children  would  not  be  allowed,  or  could 
not  be  expected,  to  attend  it.  The  result  was  the  erection  of  that  ad- 
mirable institution,  The  United  Industrial  School. 


334  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

portion  of  those  for  whom  such  schools  were  required,  will 
be  practically  excluded  from  the  benefit  of  them. 

I  cannot  and  do  not  presume  to  question  the  perfect 
purity  of  the  motives  by  which  such  men  as  Mr.  Guthrie, 
Mr.  Sheriff  Spiers,  and  their  many  excellent  associates, 
must  have  been  actuated  ;  nor  can  I  doubt  that,  under  their 
management,  much  good  will  still  be  effected,  though  in  a 
far  narrower  field  than  that  which  I  expected  to  see  pro- 
fiting by  their  zeal,  wisdom,  and  charity.  I  do  not  re- 
pent, therefore,  in  any  degree,  that  I  had  placed  a  mode- 
rate subscription  in  their  hands,  before  I  was  aware  of  the 
partial  disappointment  that  was  impending ;  and  I  do  not 
mean  or  wish  to  withdraw  any  part  of  that  subscription. 

But  when  I  find  men  so  eminently  liberal,  conscientious, 
and  judicious,  unable  to  devise  any  plan  for  so  combining 
religious  with  secular  instruction,  as  to  avoid  offending  and 
alienating  others  as  liberal,  conscientious,  and  judicious  as 
themselves,  I  must  say  that  I  am  confirmed  and  riveted 
in  the  conviction  I  have  long  entertained,  that  no  such 
combination  is  possible  in  the  public  teaching  or  adminis- 
tration of  any  school  to  be  supported  by  the  public  at 
large,  or  by  contributions  from  all  classes  of  the  commu- 
nity; and  hold,  indeed,  the  same  principle  to  apply  to  all 
endowments  or  grants  in  aid  of  such  schools,  by  the  gene- 
ral government  of  the  country.  In  so  far  as  they  are 
public  or  general  schools,  to  which  the  children  of  all  com- 
munions are  entitled  and  invited  to  resort,  I  think  they 
should  aim  only  at  imparting  secular  instruction,  and  that 
their  ordinary  teachers  should  meddle  with  nothing  be- 
yond. 

It  will  not,  I  trust,  be  inferred  from  this,  that  I  think 
lightly  of  the  importance,  or  indeed  question  the  absolute 
necessity  of  early  religious  instruction.  On  the  contrary, 
I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that  no  merely  intellectual 
training  would  be  of  any  value  without  it,  and  might  often, 
indeed,  be  positively  pernicious ;  and  so  deep  is  my  con- 


TO  THE  LORD  PROVOST  OF  EDINBURGH.      335 

viction  on  this  point,  that  I  should  not  object  to  see  it 
made  imperative  on  the  parents  (or  patrons)  of  all  the 
children  sent  to  these  schools,  to  show  that  adequate  pro- 
vision had  heen  made  for  their  training  in  religious  know- 
ledge and  feelings.  But  the  difference  between  this  and 
that  secular  information  to  which  I  would  confine  the 
general  or  public  teaching,  is,  that  the  latter  may  be  best 
given  in  common,  and  at  one  and  the  same  time,  to  all 
who  stand  in  need  of  it ;  while  the  other  can  never  be 
given,  either  in  peace  or  with  effect,  except  to  each  sect  or 
communion  of  religionists  apart. 

Why  this  should  be  so,  or  how  it  should  have  proved  so 
impracticable  to  contrive  some  system  of  Christian  in- 
struction so  elementary,  and  so  pure  from  topics  of  con- 
troversy, as  to  be  acceptable  to  all  who  are  Christians,  is 
not  for  me  to  explain.  But  it  is  enough  that  every  day's 
experience,  and  the  proceedings  that  have  led  to  the  pre- 
sent meeting,  afford  absolute  demonstration  of  the  fact. 
And  it  is  upon  this  conviction  that  the  experiment  of 
keeping  the  two  kinds  of  instruction  entirely  separate, 
and  undertaking  only  the  secular  department  in  the  pub- 
lic achools,  is,  I  understand,  to  be  recommended  to  the 
meeting. 

In  this  recommendation  I  most  cordially  and  earnestly 
concur;  arid  cannot  but  hope  that,  if  wisely  conducted,  it 
may  set  an  example  which  the  growing  conviction  of  re- 
flecting and  observing  men  will  soon  cause  to  be  followed 
in  every  quarter  of  the  land. 

I  take  the  liberty  of  annexing  a  draft  for  .£25,  as  my 
present  contribution  to  the  undertaking. — And  am  always, 
my  dear  Lord  Provost,  very  faithfully  yours. 


LIFE    OF   LOED   JEFFREY. 


194.— To  Mr.  Charles  Dickens. 

Craigcrook,  Blackball,  Edinburgh, 
Monday,  5th  July,  1847. 

My  ever  dear  Dickens — You  know  I  am  your  Critic 
Laureate;  and,  by  rights,  should  present  you  with  a  birth- 
day offering,  on  the  appearance  of  every  new  number. 
But  your  births  come  so  fast,  that  my  poor  hobbling  chro- 
nicle cannot  keep  up  with  them ;  and  you  are  far  more 
prolific  of  bright  inventions  than  I  can  afford  to  be  of  dull 
remarks.  But  I  thank  you,  and  bless  you,  not  the  less 
(internally)  for  every  new  benefaction,  and  feel  that  I  must 
thank  you  this  time  in  words,  even  though  it  should  tire  you ; 
for  I  am  always  afraid  of  falling  somewhat  out  of  your 
remembrance;  or  rather,  perhaps,  of  your  fancying  that 
I  am  getting  too  old  and  stupid  to  relish  and  value  you  as 
I  ought;  but,  indeed,  I  am  not,  and  am,  in  every  way, 
quite  as  worthy  of  your  remembrance  as  ever. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  have  been  charmed  with 
your  last  number,  and  what  gentle  sobs  and  delightful 
tears  it  has  cost  me.  It  is  the  most  finished,  perhaps,  in 
diction ;  and  in  the  delicacy  and  fineness  of  its  touches, 
both  of  pleasantry  and  pathos,  of  any  you  have  ever  given 
us ;  while  it  rises  to  higher  and  deeper  passions ;  not  rest- 
ing, like  most  of  the  former,  in  sweet  thoughtfulness,  and 
thrilling  and  attractive  tenderness,  but  boldly  wielding  all 
the  lofty  and  terrible  elements  of  tragedy,  and  bringing 
before  us  the  appalling  struggles  of  a  proud,  scornful,  and 
repentant  spirit.  I  am  proud  that  you  should  thus  show 
us  new  views  of  your  genius — but  I  shall  always  love  its 
gentler  magic  the  most;  and  never  leave  Nelly  and  Paul 
and  Florence  for  Edith,  with  whatever  potent  spells  you 
may  invest  her ;  though  I  am  prepared  for  great  things 
from  her.  I  must  thank  you,  too,  for  the  true  and  pathetic 
poetry  of  many  passages  in  this  number — Dombey's  brief 


TO   CHAHLES   DICKENS.  337 

vision  in  the  after  dinner  table,  for  instance,  and  that  grand 
and  solemn  progress,  so  full  of  fancy  and  feeling,  of  dawn 
and  night  shadows,  over  the  funeral  church.  I  am  pre- 
pared too,  in  some  degree,  for  being  softened  towards 
Dombey;  for  you  have  made  me  feel  sincere  pity  for  Miss 
Tox;  though,  to  be  sure,  only  by  making  her  the  victim 
of  a  still  more  hateful  and  heartless  creature  than  herself; 
and  I  do  not  know  where  you  are  to  find  any  thing  more 
hateful  and  heartless  than  Dombey.  For  all  I  have  yet 
seen,  it  should  only  require  to  see  him  insulted,  beggared, 
and  disgraced. 

Perhaps  I  hate  Carker  even  more,  already ;  so  much, 
indeed,  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  me  if  you  could  do 
without  him.  And  I  must  tell  you,  too,  that  I  think  him 
the  least  natural  of  all  the  characters  you  have  ever  exhi- 
bited (for  I  do  not  consider  Quilp,  or  Dick  Swiveller,  as  at 
all  out  of  nature);  but  it  seems  to  me  that  a  Knight  Tem- 
plar in  the  disguise  of  a  waiter,  is  not  a  more  extravagant 
fiction,  than  a  man  of  high  gifts  and  rare  accomplishments, 
bred  and  working  hard  every  day  as  a  subordinate  manager 
or  head  clerk  in  a  merchant's  counting-house.  One  might 
pass  his  extreme  wickedness  .and  malignity,  though  they, 
too,  are  quite  above  his  position;  but  the  genius  and  at- 
tainments, the  manners  and  scope  of  thought,  do  strike  me 
as  not  reconcileable  with  any  thing  one  has  yet  heard  of 
his  history,  or  seen  of  his  occupations.  But  I  must  sub- 
mit, I  see,  to  take  a  great  interest  in  him,  and  only  hope 
you  will  not  end  by  making  me  love  him  too. 

Well ;  but  how  have  you  been  ?  And  how  is  the  poor 
child  who  was  so  cruelly  hustled  against  the  portals  of  life 
at  his  entry?  And  his  dear  mother?  And  my  bright 
boy?  And  all  the  rest  of  the  happy  circle?  And  where 
are  you  now?  And  where  to  be  for  the  summer?  And 
will  you  not  come  to  see  us  here  (where  we  shall  be  con- 
stantly with  the  Empsons,  after  to-morrow,  I  hope  till 
October,  and  after  that  by  ourselves  till  November)  ?  And 

VOL.  II.— 29  W 


338  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

how  does  the  People's  Edition  prosper?  And  how  does 
the  embankment  proceed  ?  And  do  you  begin  to  feel  the 
germs  of  a  prudent  avarice,  and  anticipated  pride  of  purse, 
working  themselves  into  your  breast?  And  whom  do  you 
mostly  live  with?  or  wish  to  live  with?  And  among  whom, 
and  in  what  condition,  do  you  most  aspire  to  die  ?  Though 
I  am  not  exactly  your  father  confessor,  you  know  I  always 
put  you  through  your  Catechism ;  and  I  do  expect  and  re- 
quire an  answer  to  all  these  interrogatives. 

I  have  been  tolerably  well  since  I  saw  you,  though  a 
little  more  disordered  than  usual  for  the  last  fortnight. 
However,  we  have  our  long  holidays  after  the  20th;  and 
I  expect  my  daughter,  with  the  rest  of  my  grandchildren 
(we  brought  two  down  with  us)  to-morrow,  or  next  day. 
We  have  had  quite  a  cool  summer,  but  are  now  looking 
very  green  and  leafy,  and  with  roses  in  my  garden  as  I 
should  be  quite  proud  to  crown  you  with.  But  here  are 
people  come  in  upon  me,  and  I  have  no  hope  of  getting 
rid  of  them  before  the  post  goes.  So  God  bless  you !  my 
dear  Dickens ;  and  with  the  truest  love  to  my  true-hearted 
Kate  and  all  true  Dickenses,  believe  me  always,  ever  and 
ever  yours. 


195. — To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq.    . 

Craigcrook,  Blackball, 
Sunday,  12th  September,  1847. 

My  dear  Dickens — I  have  had  a  horrid  phlegmon  on  my 
cheek,  which,  after  keeping  me  in  a  sleepless  fever  for  a 
full  'week,  was  savagely  cut  into  only  four  days  ago,  and 
is  not  quite  cured  yet.  Nothing  else  could  have  kept  back 
my  little  laureate  offering  on  your  last  happy  birth,  and 
uiy  thanks  for  all  the  pleasure  it  has  given,  and  all  the 
good  it  has  done  me.  That  first  chapter,  and  the  scenes 
with  Florence  and  Edith,  are  done  with  your  finest  and 
happiest  hand ;  so  soft  and  so  graceful,  and  with  such  de- 


TO   CHARLES    DICKENS.  339 

licate  touches  of  deep  feeling,  and  passing  intimations  of 
coming  griefs,  and  woman's  loveliness,  and  loving  nature, 
shown  in  such  contrasted  embodiments  of  gentle  innocence 
and  passionate  pride;  and  yet  all  brought  under  the  potent 
spell  of  one  gfeat  master,  and  harmonized  by  the  grace  as 
well  as  the  power  of  his  genius,  into  a  picture  in  which 
every  one  must  recognise,  not  only  the  truth  of  each  indi- 
vidual figure,  but  the  magic  effect  of  their  grouping.  You 
have  the  force  and  the  nature  of  Scott  in  his  pathetic  parts, 
without  his  occasional  coarseness  and  wordiness,  and  the 
searching  disclosure  of  inward  agonies  of  Byron,  without 
a  trait  of  his  wickedness. 

Well,  now,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Somebody 
was  saying  the  other  day,  that  you  were  expected  in  Scot- 
land ;  but  I  think  you  would  not  have  withheld  so  pleasant 
a  piece  of  information  from  me,  if  you  had  had  it  to  give. 
Yet  you  did  tell  me  something  about  a  possible  dinner  at 
Glasgow ;  and  the  season  cannot  be  said  to  be  yet  over. 
At  all  events,  let  me  know. 

My  daughter  and  her  children  (all  but  my  own  adopted 
one)  leave  us,  I  grieve  to  say,  in  a  few  days ;  and  after  that, 
we  who  are  left  may  go  for  a  week  into  Ayrshire,  to  divert 
our  delaissement ;  but,  after  that,  we  shall  be  steadily  here 
till  November,  and  I  am  sure  I  need  not  say  how  glad  I 
shall  be  to  see  you.  I  am  still  but  weak  and  washy ;  and 
feel  that  it  is  no  light  thing  for  an  old  gentleman  to  have 
a  great  hole  dug  in  his  cheek,  with  a  hard  swelling  round- 
it,  as  large  as  a  cross-bun  at  Easter.  The  truth  is,  I  fear, 
that  I  am  very  old ;  and  a  little  thing  unsettles,  and  a  lit- 
tle more  will  overthrow  me.  And  yet  my  low  sun  looks 
lovingly  on  the  world  it  is  leaving,  and  will  sink  gently,  I 
hope,  and  rather  in  brightness  than  gloom. 

God  bless  you,  and  all  who  are  dear  to  you ! — Ever  and 
ever,  my  dear  Dickens,  affectionately  yours. 


340  LIFE   OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 


196.— To  Mrs.  Empson. 

Edinburgl^  Friday  Night, 
7th  November,  1847. 

Here  we  are,  banished  (for  a  season)  from  our  Paradise, 
and  feeling  as  Adam  and  Eve  did,  the  first  night  they 
passed  in  the  lower  world.  I  certainly  was  never  so  sorry 
to  part  from  my  shades,  and  never  left  them  so  lovely,  or 
so  entire,  &c. 

Well,  we  came  in  with  sweet  Maggie  and  the  birds,  just 
about  sunset,  and  the  town  looked  dark  and  wicked.  Your 
Wednesday  letters  were  our  best  consolation,  and  the 
thought  that  we  should  now  get  them  more  regularly  and 
earlier. 

We  left  Lady  Bell  at  Craigcrook,  waiting  for  Sophy 
Rutherfurd  to  take  her  to  Lauriston,  where  there  is  to  be 
a  great  dinner  to  Lord  John,  Lord  James  Stewart,  and 
others.  Granny  and  I  dined  quietly  in  our  duality,  and 
cheered  up  comfortably  enough,  at  our  repast,  and  over 
the  resume  of  all  our  old  town  divertisements  with  Maggie, 
who  was  bright  as  an  angel,  and  as  happy.  We  had  the 
play  of  the  red  sofa  cushion  child,  and  the  shadows  on  the 
wall,  and  the  wilful  mistake  of  poet  Gay  for  Sir  Walter, 
and  the  identification  of  all  the  handmaidens  in  the  figures 
of  the  large  pictures  over  the  chimney,  besides  tossing  and 
daneing,  till  Buckley  came  to  impose  silence  on  our  revels. 
Granny  has  not  slept  any,  and  I  only  mused  with  my  head 
covered,  on  the  sofa.  Then  we  had  tea  gaily,  and  some 
pleasant  chat,  till  I  happened  to  go  up  stairs,  and  passing 
into  our  room,  saw  the  door  open  of  that  little  one  where 
you  used  to  sleep, 'and  the  very  bed  waiting  there  for  you, 
so  silent  and  desolate,  that  all  the  love,  and  the  miss  of 
you,  which  fell  so  sadly  on  my  heart  the  first  night  of  your 
desertion,  came  back  upon  it  so  heavily  and  darkly,  that  I 
was  obliged  to  shut  myself  in,  and  cry  over  the  recollec- 


TO   MRS.  FLETCHER.  341 

tion,  as  if  all  the  interval  had  been  annihilated,  and  that 
loss  and  sorrow  were  still  fresh  and  unsubdued  before  me ; 
and  though  the  fit  went  off  before  long,  I  feel  still  that  I 
must  vent  my  heart  by  telling  you  of  it,  and  therefore  sit 
down  now  to  write  all  this  to  you,  and  get  rid  of  feelings 
that  would  otherwise  be  more  likely  to  haunt  my  vigils  of 
the  night.  It  will  not  give  you  pain,  I  think,  to  hear  of 
it ;  for  the  pain  is  over,  long  over,  with  me,  and  you  know 
that  I  have  no  regrets  now,  nor  any  thing  but  self-gratu- 
lations,  and  a  deep  and  soothing  conviction,  to  which  every 
day  adds  strength,  that  what  has  been,  and  is,  is  best  and 
happiest  for  all  of  us,  and  in  all  respects  what  we  should 
have  wished  and  prayed  for,  except  only  for  the  engage- 
ments which  keep  us  so  much  asunder.  But  recollections 
will  arise,  and  scenes  rush  back  on  the  heart,  which  can 
only  be  charmed  back  to  repose  by  unburdening  itself  to 
hearts  that  understand  it ;  and  now  the  spell  has  done  its 
work,  and  I  return  to  the  common  world. 

197.— To  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

Craigcrook,  Thursday,  18th,  1847. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Fletcher — Your  kind  letter  of  the  12th 
did  not  reach  Hayleybury  till  we  were  across  the  Border, 
and  was  only  forwarded  to  me  last  night,  &c.  • 

I  am  very  much  interested  about  what  you  tell  me  of 
the  early  days  of  poor  Allen,  and  wish  I  could  repay  you 
by  any  accounts  you  would  care  about  of  his  latter  days. 
His  life,  I  have  no  doubt,  on  the  whole  was  a  happy  one, 
and  blameless  and  amiable.  Kind  and  ever  generous  iu 
his  nature,  though  somewhat  cold,  and  in  appearance  only 
intellectual;  in  his  manners  and  views  he  enjoyed  the  re- 
spect of  all  men,  and  the  cordial  esteem  and  confidence  of 
all  to  whom  he  was  intimately  known.  I  did  dine  with 
Lady  Holland  within  four  days  of  his  death,  when  there 
had  been  apparent  improvement  in  his  symptoms,  and  she 


342  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

indulged  in  sanguine  hopes  of  his  recovery.  He  had  un- 
dertaken to  make  a  review  of  Homer's  book,  but  had  made 
but  little  progress  beyond  reading  it  carefully,  and  making 
a  few  notes  on  the  points  on  which  he  thought  of  making 
observations,  &c. 

When  I  said  that  I  had  no  anecdotes  to  tell  you  of 
Allen,  I  had  forgotten  that  you  might  not  have  heard  of 
his  request  to  be  buried  at  Ampthill,  and  the  motive  of  it. 
When  the  Hollands  lost  a  very  sweet  young  girl,  many 
years  ago,  Allen  was  very  deeply  afflicted,  as  she  had 
always  been  a  favourite,  and  a  sort  of  pupil,  and  never 
•went  afterward  with  the  family  to  Ampthill  without  going 
and  sitting  alone  for  an  hour  in  the  vault  where  she  was 
laid;  and  it  was  in  an  adjoining  vault,  which  he  hadx;on- 
structed  at  the  time,  that  he  ultimately  directed  his  own 
body  to  be  placed.  He  also  gave  white  frocks  and  black 
ribbons  to  twenty  young  girls  of  the  neighbourhood,  such 
as  he  had  dressed  and  marshalled  to  assist  at  her  funeral. 
I  think  you  will  like  to  hear  this  of  your  old  friend,  who 
had  grown  very  unlike  "  a  young  Greek"  certainly,  and 
had  the  air,  to  most  people,  of  a  very  unromantic  person. 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  we  all  miss  you  from  our 
neighbourhood,  and  how  much  we  secretly  cherish  a  hope 
that  you  may  in  time  come  to  think  Edinburgh  a  fitter 
place  (in  winter,  at  least)  than  the  windy  vales  of  West- 
moreland. But  I  am  busy  to-day,  and  can  only  say,  ever, 
very  affectionately  yours. 


198.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Saturday,  2Gth ,  1848. 

What  the  devil  are  we  to  believe  about  this  new  French 
revolution  ?  nothing  but  electric  telegraphs  subsequent  to 
Guizot's  resignation,  and  no  information  by  whom  the 
messages  are  sent,  or  how  they  come.  I  give  no  absolute 
credit,  therefore,  to  any  thing  said  to  have  happened  since, 


TO    MR.  EMPSON.  343 

and  positively  disbelieve  a  great  part  of  it.  But  there  is  a 
revolution,  I  take  it,  and  France  certainly,  and  the  continent 
most  probably,  and  England  not  improbably,  are  in  for  a 
new  period  of  convulsion !  It  is  scarcely  possible,  I  fear, 
that  things  should  settle  down  this  time  as  quietly  as  they  did 
in  1830;  and  though  one  must  rejoice,  in  the  first  instance, 
at  the  failure  of  this  insane  assertion  of  arbitrary  power, 
and  even  at  the  downfall  of  a  government  which  has  been 
gradually  verging  toward  illiberal  and  despotic  principles, 
I  cannot  say  that  I  augur  any  thing  but  evil  (in  the  first 
instance  at  least,  and  to  the  liberal  party  in  this  country) 
from  this  outbreak.  An  example  of  successful  democratic 
insurrections  against  regular  authority  are  feared  and  es- 
chewed by  the  timid,  the  cautious,  and,  generally  speaking, 
by  the  prudent,  moderate,  and  comfortabler  classes  among 
us  ;  and  these  in  peaceful  times  must  always  be  the  leading 
classes,  and,  in  truth,  the  only  safe  leaders  at  any  time ; 
and  it  would  require  a  far  greater  outrage  than  that  of 
suppressing  the  banquets,  &c.  to  make  this  class  in  any 
way  tolerant  of  mobs  breaking  into  senate  houses  and 
palaces — burning  the  fine  furniture,  and  parading  the  vaca- 
ted throne  in  mockery  about  the  streets — and  still  less  of  a 
sudden  proclamation  of  the  abolition  of  monarchy,  and  the 
adoption  of  a  full  democracy.  And  so,  though  I  do  not 
think  we  shall  join  in  a  new  holy  alliance  for  the  restora- 
tion of  legitimate  sovereignty  by  foreign  bayonets,  I  do 
expect  that  conservation  will  again  be  in  the  ascendant, 
and  all  advance  in  liberal  or  popular  legislation  arrested, 
or  pushed  back  among  us  for  a  long  time,  by  the  alarm  and 
repugnance  that  this  coarse  triumph  of  a  Parisian  populace 
will  excite.  The  whole  affair  is  nearly  as  much  a  mystery 
to  me  as  ever;  but  I  now  incline  to  believe  that  the  ulti- 
mate catastrophe  is  to  be  ascribed  rather  to  the  relenting 
of  old  Louis  P.  than  to  his  being  actually  overmastered — 
my  theory  being  that  he  reckoned  (most  foolishly  and 
GUILTILY,  when  there  was  any  risk  at  all)  on  his  vast  force 


344  LTFB   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

deterring  the  discontented  from  any  actual  resistance ;  and 
that  when  he  found  they  could  not  be  got  under  (when 
joined  by  the  National  Guard)  by  a  sanguinary  conflict,  he 
shrank  from  butchering  10,000  or  20,000  of  his  subjects 
by  his  regular  army ;  a'nd  though  probably  quite  sure  of 
ultimately  gaining  a  complete  and  bloody  victory,  thought 
it  better,  when  brought  to  this  dreadful  alternative,  rather 
to  try  the  effect  of  compassion,  or  even  submission,  than 
go  to  an  issue  under  which  the  most  complete  success  must 
have  made  Paris  uninhabitable  for  him  or  his  descendants, 
and  himself  an  object  of  loathing  and  deserved  infamy  to 
all  succeeding  generations.  He  has  probably  failed  in  the 
attempt  to  compromise,  but  even  then,  I  would  fain  hope, 
has  not  repented  the  resolution,  at  all  events,  to  avoid  that 
savage  effusion  of  blood ;  and  with  that  resolution,  I  do 
trust  that  his  conquerors,  if  indeed  he  is  conquered,  will 
sympathize  with  and  copy  him.  It  also  strikes  me  that 
this  furious  outbreak  is  truly  to  be  traced  to  the  want  of 
that  very  electoral  reform  which  its  authors  were  so  un- 
wisely baffled  in  seeking  by  other  means — it  being  but  one 
more  example  of  the  general  truth,  that  in  all  intelligent 
communities,  public  opinion,  if  refused  its  legitimate  vents, 
will  burst  its  way  through  the  close  system  of  the  govern- 
ment ;  but  here,  luckily  for  you,  is  dinner.  Good-bye. 

7J. — It  is  very  foolish  writing  up  this  to  you,  from  the 
provinces  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  think  of  any  thing  else,  and 
I  must  write  to  you  all  that  1  am  thinking.  Granny  writes 
also,  however,  and  will  supply  the  domestic  chapter.  Not 
out  of  court  till  four,  Saturday  though  it  be.  A  good 
large  party  last  night.  All  our  snow  gone,  and  weather 
vernal  again,  though  not  quite  so  fine  as  you  make  yours. 
Heaven  bless  you  all. — Ever,  yours. 


TO    MRS.    RUTHERFURD.  345 


199.— To  Mrs.  A.  Rutherfurd. 

Hay  ley  bury,  Friday,  May  1848. 

My  ever  dear  Sophia — I  write  to  you  with  a  heavier 
heart  than  ever  I  did  before.*  But  it  helps  to  lighten  it 
that  I  am  sure  of  your  sympathy,  and  perhaps  I  take  a 
gloomier  view  of  our  position  than  is  reasonable.  Bright 
came  last  night.  He  thinks  the  disease  still  progressing, 
though  slowly,  but  is  satisfied  that  the  cure  must  now  be 
a  work  of  time ;  and  therefore  thinks  it  better  that  she 
should  make  an  effort  to  go  to  Craigcrook  at  once  rather 
than  wait  till  moving  might  be  less  safe,  and  staying  here 
indefinitely  liable  to  many  objections;  and  is  of  opinion 
that  no  material  hurt  can  come  of  her  now  going,  either 
by  easy  railway  stages,  or  by  water,  and  I  think  we  have 
now  pretty  much  fixed  that  she  shall  go'. by  sea  next 
Wednesday  evening,  either  with  her  own  maid  and  good 
motherly  White  to  help  her,  or  with  White,  and  Maggie, 
and  Mrs.  Buckley,  while  I  go  by  train  the  same  morning, 
either  with  Maggie  and  Buckley,  or  with  the  three  other 
children  and  their  mother  and  maids,  leaving  poor  Empson 
to  follow  alone,  when  his  holidays  will  let  him,  about  a 
fortnight  after. 

The  last  scheme  is  most  in  favour  to-day  and  would 
certainly  be  most  agreeable  to  us  all  except  for  its  unfair- 
ness to  E.,  who  is  too  kind  and  generous  to  say  any  thing 
against  it.  But  one  way  or  another,  if  no  impediment 
arises,  I  think  there  will  be  a  move  to  the  north  next  Wed- 
nesday, and  would  to  heaven  it  were  well  over,  for  I  cannot 
yet  contemplate  it  and  the  temporary  separation  it  implies 
without  great  anxiety.  I  was  resolved  at  first  to  embark 
with  C.,  but  she  was  earnest  against  it,  and  the  recollection 
of  my  liability  to  sinking  and  faintness  on  any  violent  in* 

*  Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  very  ill. 


34G  LIPE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

tcstinal  disturbance,  has  made  me  feel  that  the  experiment 
of  encountering  sea-sickness  would  be  too  rash,  and  might 
frighten  and  disturb  poor  C.  more  than  my  poor  presence 
could  comfort  her;  and,  with  two  attendants,  I  do  trust 
that  she  will  be  at  least  as  well  off  as  if  I  was  with  her. 
We  of  the  train  will  stop  a  night  at  Carlisle,  and  be  home 
to  prepare  for  the  voyagers. 

The  poor  patient  bears  up  as  yet  delightfully,  and  I  hope 
her  charming  constitutional  cheerfulness  will  still  remain 
with  her,  though  she  is  a  little  low  by  fits  already,  and 
often,  I  fear,  uncomfortable.  But  they  talk  of  long 
courses  of  mercury,  &c.,  and  I  dread  she  has  much  to  go 
through.  She  is  perfectly  aware  that  she  may  have  a  long 
confinement,  &c.,  but  I  do  not  think  reckons  on  much  suf- 
fering, and  seems  to  make  no  question  of  an  ultimate  re- 
covery, and  of  course  we  take  care  not  to  frighten  her. 

This  is  very  sad,  and  almost  unfair  to  you,  my  dear 
Sophia.  But  you  see  how  I  lean  on  your  indulgence.  I 
am  myself  tolerably  well,  though  those  things  do  me  no 
good.  I  shall  probably  write  again  before  we  actually 
start.  All  the  rest  are  well,  and  so  God  bless  you  always, 
my  dear,  and  believe  me  ever  and  ever  yours. 


200.— To  a  Grandchild. 

Craigcrook,  20th  June,  1848.. 

My  sonsy  Nancy! — I  love  you  very  much;  and  think 
very  often  of  your  dimples,  and  your  pimples;  and  your 
funny  little  plays,  and  all  your  pretty  ways;  and  I  send 
you  my  blessing,  and  wish  I  were  kissing,  your  sweet  rosy 
lips,  or  your  fat  finger  tips;  and  that  you  were  here,  so 
that  I  could  hear,  your  stammering  words,  from  a  mouth- 
ful of  curds ;  and  a  great  purple  tongue  (as  broad  as  it's 
long ;)  and  see  your  round  eyes,  open  wide  with  surprise, 
and  your  wondering  look,  to  find  yourself  at  Craigcrook ! 
To-morrow  is  Maggie's  birthday,  and  we  have  built  up  a 


TO   A   GRANDCHILD.  347 

great  bonfire  in  honour  of  it;  and  Maggie  Rutherfurd  (do 
you  remember  her  at  all  ?)  is  coming  out  to  dance  round  it; 
and  all  the  servants  are  to  drink  her  health,  and  wish  her 
many  happy  days  with  you  and  Frankie;  and  all  the 
mammys'and  pappys,  whether  grand  or  not  grand.  We 
are  very  glad  to  hear  that  she  and  you  love  each  other  so 
well,  and  are  happy  in  making  each  other  happy;  and  that 
you  do  not  forget  dear  Tarley  or  Frankie,  when  they  are 
out  of  sight,  nor  Granny  either — or  even  old  Granny  pa, 
who  is'in  most  danger  of  being  forgotten,  he  thinks.  We 
have  had  showery  weather  here,  but  the  garden  is  full 
of  flowers;  and  Frankie  has  a  new  wheel-barrow,  and  does 
a  great  deal  of  work,  and  some  mischief  now  and  then. 
All  the  dogs  are  very  well ;  and  Foxey  is  mine,  and  Froggy 
is  Tarley's,  and  Frankie  has  taken  up  with  great  white 
Neddy — so  that  nothing  is  left  for  Granny  but  old  barking 
Jacky  and  Dover  when  the  carriage  comes.  The  donkey 
sends  his  compliments  to  you,  and  maintains  that  you 
are  a  cousin  of  his  !  or  a  near  relation,  at  all  events.  He 
wishes,"  too,  that  you  and  Maggie  would  come,  for  he  thinks 
that  you  will  not  be  so  heavy  on  his  back  as  Tarley  and 
Maggie  Rutherfurd,  who  now  ride  him  without  mercy. 
This  is  Sunday,  and  Ali  is  at  church — Granny  and  I  taking 
care  of  Frankie  till  she  comes  back,  and  he  is  now  ham- 
mering very  busily  at  a  corner  of  the  carpet,  which  he 
says  does  not  lie  flat.  He  is  very  good,  and  really  too 
pretty  for  a  boy,  though  I  think  his  two  eyebrows  are 
growing  into  one — stretching  and  meeting  each  other 
above  his  nose !  But  he  has  not  near  so  many  freckles  as 
Tarley — who  has  a  very  fine  crop  of  them — which  she  and 
I  encourage  as  much  as  we  can.  I  hope  you  and  Maggie 
will  lay  in  a  stock  of  them,  as  I  think  no  little  girl  can  be 
pretty  without  them  in  summer.  Our  pea-hens  are  sus- 
pected of  having  young  families  in  some  hidden  place,  for, 
though  they  pay  us  short  visits  now  and  then,  we  see  them 
but  seldom,  and  always  alone.  If  you  and  Maggie  were 


348  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

here  with  your  sharp  eyes,  we  think  you  might  find  out 
their  secret  and  introduce  us  to  a  nice  new  family  of  young 
peas.  The  old  papa  cock,  in  the  mean  time,  says  he  knows 
nothing  about  them,  and  does  not  care  a  farthing !  We 
envy  you  your  young  peas  of  another  kind,  for  we  have  none 
yet,  nor  any  asparagus  either,  and  hope  you  will  bring 
some  down  to  us  in  your  lap.  Tarley  sends  her  love, 'and  I 
send  mine  to  you  all ;  though  I  shall  think  most  of  Maggie 
to-morrow  morning,  and  of  you  when  your  birth-morning 
comes.  When  is  that,  do  you  know  ?  It  is  never  dark 
now,  here,  and  we  might  all  go  to  bed  without  candles. 
And  so  bless  you  ever  and  ever,  my  dear,  dimply  pussie. — 
Your  very  loving  Grandpa. 


201.— To  Mr.  Empson, 

(On  receiving  a  proof  of  part  of  Macaulay's  History.) 

Craigcrook,  Sunday. 

But  I  have  your  nice  Friday  letter  with  its  precious  en- 
closure, which  I  have  devoured  with  a  greedy  and  epicu- 
rean relish.  I  think  it  not  only  good,  but  admirable.  It 
is  as  fluent  and  as  much  coloured  as  Livy;  as  close  and 
coherent  as  Thucydides ;  with  far  more  real  condensation, 
and  a  larger  thoughtfulness  than  either ;  and  quite  free 
from  the  affected  laconisins  and  sarcasms  and  epigrams  of 
Tacitus.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  read  any  thing  so 
good  as  the  first  forty  pages ;  so  clear,  comprehensive  and 
concise,  so  pregnant  with  deep  thought,  so  suggestive  of 
great  views,  and  grand  and  memorable  distinctions.  What 
follows  about  the  effects  of  the  Reformation,  and  the  cir- 
cumstances which  really  gave  its  peculiar  (and  I  have 
always  thought  mongrel)  character  to  the  Church  of 
England,  though  full  of  force  and  originality,  and  indis- 
pensable to  the  development  of  his  subject,  are,  to  me, 
less  attractive,  and  seem  somewhat  to  encumber  and  re- 


TO   MR.  CAYLEY. 

tard  the  grand  march  on  which  he  had  begun.  But  he 
will  soon  emerge  from  that  entanglement,  and  fall  into 
the  full  force  of  his  first  majestic  movement.  I  shall  send 
back  these  sheets  to  the  Albany  to-morrow,  unseen,  cer- 
tainly, by  any  eye  but  my  own.  I  suppose  they  are  al- 
ready thrown  off,  or  I  would  suggest  the  alteration  of  two 
or  three  words  and  some  amendment  of  the  punctua- 
tion, &c. 

I  have  been  looking  into  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  edition  of 
Reid,  or  rather  into  one  of  his  own  annexed  dissertations 
"  On  the  Philosophy  of  Common  Sense ;"  which,  though 
it  frightens  one  with  the  immensity  of  its  erudition,  has 
struck  me  very  much  by  its  vigour,  completeness,  and  in- 
exorable march  of  ratiocination.  He  is  a  wonderful  fellow, 
and  I  hope  may  yet  be  spared  to  astonish  and  overawe  us 
for  years  to  come.  Do  look  into  that  paper,  and  make 
Jones  look  at  it,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it.  But  I 
am  also  reading  Bulwer's  Lucretia,  which  is  a  remarkable 
work  too.  You  should  read  it  all,  but  Charley  may  stop, 
if  she  pleases,  (and  I  think  she  will  please)  at  the  first 
volume,  which,  in  so  far  as  I  have  read,  is  by  far  the  most 
pleasing  part  of  the  work.  I  have  always  thought  Bulwer 
a  great  artist, 'and  with  so  much  more  profound  and  sug- 
gestive remarks  than  any  other  novelist,  not  excepting  Sir 
Walter,  though  not  comparable  either  to  him  or  Dickens, 
in  genial  views  and  absolutely  true  presentiments  of  nature, 
&c. — Ever  yours. 

202.— To  Mr.  Gayley. 

Craigcrook,  Tuesday,  8th  August,  1848. 

My  very  dear  Cayley — A  great  calamity  has  fallen  on 
you,  and  you  must  bear  it.*  It  will  be  hard  to  bear;  and 
you  will  long  feel  its  bitterness  and  its  weight.  But  you 

*  The  death  of  Mrs.  Cayley. 
VOL.  II.— 30 


350  LIFE  OF   LOKD  JEFFREY. 

have  duties  that  must  not  be  deserted,  and  affections  that 
must  be  met  and  cherished,  and  will  turn  at  last  to  com- 
fort and  soothing.  Heaven  support  and  direct  you.  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  much  we  have  all  been  afflicted  and 
surprised  by  this  sad  intelligence.  She  was  so  well,  and 
so  full  of  heart,  and  hope,  and  kindness,  in  that  short 
glimpse  we  had  of  her  in  London  in  May.  And  now  all 
that  light  is  extinguished — and  so  suddenly !  I  sit  up  in 
bed  to  write  this  to  you,  having  been  confined  (and  with  a 
good  deal  of  pain)  for  the  last  ten  days,  in  consequence  of 
a  sharp  surgical  operation  I  had  to  undergo  to  get  rid  of 
an  old  wen  on  my  leg.  But  I  could  not  rest  last  night  for 
thinking  of  you,  and  Sir  George  and  all  the  rest  of  your 
house  of  mourning ;  and  feel  that  it  relieves  me  to  give 
you  this  needless  assurance  of  my  deep  sympathy,  and  in- 
deed true  participation,  of  your  sorrow.  Ever  since  the 
days,  now  dim  and  distant,  of  our  first  intimacy  at  Edin- 
burgh, I  have  always  regarded  myself  almost  as  one  of 
your  family,  and  I  am  sure  nobody  out  of  it  can  feel  more 
constant  interest  in  all  of  you.  You  will  not  consider  my 
writing,  therefore,  as  an  impertinence ;  I  am  sure  you  would 
not,  if  you  could  see  into  my  heart  at  this  moment,  and 
indeed  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  not,  though  I  feel  too  that 
I  can  do  you  no  good  by  writing.  But  yo'u  must  let  me 
know,  by  and  by,  how  you  come  on ;  and  I  trust  that  your 
delicate  health  has  not  suffered  materially  by  this  shock. 

Mrs.  Jeffrey  is  almost  well  again,  though  still  weak  and 
thin.  I  have  my  daughter  and  all  her  children  with  me. 
They  will  stay  out  the  summer,  and  Empson  also  — And 
so  God  bless  you,  &c. 


TO  CHARLES   DICKENS.  351 

203.— To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq.  t 

Craigcrook,  5th  November,  1848. 

My  dear  Dickens — We  must  not  grow  quite  out  of  ac- 
quaintance, if  you  please !  &c. 

You  have  put  my  name  alongside  of  your  own,  on  a 
memorable  little  page,  and  have  solemnly  united  them 
again,  on  the  head  of  a  child,  who  will  live,  I  hope, 
neither  to  discredit  the  one,  nor  to  be  ashamed  of  the 
other.  And  so,  for  the  sake  even  of  decent  consistency, 
you  must  really  take  a  little  notice  of  me  now  and  then, 
and  let  me  have  some  account,  as  of  old,  of  your  health 
and  happiness — of  your  worldly  affairs,  and  your  spiritual 
hopes  and  experiences — of  your  literary  projects  and  do- 
mestic felicities — your  nocturnal  walks,  and  dramatic  re- 
creations— of  the  sale  of  cheap  copies,  and  the  conception 
of  bright  originals — of  your  wife  and  children ;  in  short, 
your  autumn  migrations  and  winter  home — of  our  last 
parting,  which  was  more  humid  than  usual,  and  our  next 
meeting,  which,  alas  !  I  feel  to  be  more  and  more  uncer- 
tain. 

We  have  had  a  good  deal  of  sickness,  though  really  but 
very  little  sorrow,  in  our  home  this  year.  But  we  are  all 
better  now,  and  the  continued  welfare  and  gayety  of  the 
children  and  grandchildren  should  make  the  grandfather 
and  mother  ashamed,  if  they  let  themselves  be  depressed  by 
their  own  natural  infirmities.  We  make  a  very  good  fight 
against  them  accordingly,  and  I  hope  do  not  materially 
depress  those  around  us  by  the  spectacle  of  our  not  un- 
gentle decay.  I  was  charmed  to  find  you  giving  signs  of 
life  the  other  day  by  an  advertisement  of  a -new  Christmas 
book,  though  I  can  make  but  a  poor  guess  at  its  scope  by 
the  —  -  title  you  have  given  it.  You  must  let  me 
have  an  early  copy  of  it,  I  think,  but  not  if  at  all  incon- 
venient, or  against  the  wish  of  the  publishers,  &c. — Ever 
affectionately  yours. 


3i)2  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 


204.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

Edinburgh,  Monday,  7  o'clock,  1848. 

We  had  no  letter  this  morning,  but  suppose  nothing 
•worse  than  jour  being  too  late  for  the  Saturday  post,  which 
will  bring  us  the  post  scriptum  to-morrow  afternoon,  &c. 

It  is  a  superb  winter  day,  bright  and  calm ;  and  we  had 
a  grand  and  pensive  walk  from  Granton  pier  to  Newhaven 
— the  sea  rippling  slow  and  shrill  among  the  pebbles,  and 
the  sky  majestically  hung,  all  over  the  west,  with  rich  ca- 
nopied clouds,  of  crimson  and  deep  orange. 

A  very  good  Examiner  I  think  this  last.  I  fancy  I 
should  like  to  read  those  letters  and  reliques  of  old  William 
Taylor.  Is  he  any  relation  of  Sarah's?  There  is  some- 
thing very  creditable  in  the  extreme  frankness  with  which 
he  and  Southey  tell  each  other  of  their  faults ;  though  it 
makes  an  odd  contrast  with  the  soreness  and  intolerance 
with  which  they  both  receive  any  similar  intimations  from 
other  quarters,  &c. 


205.— To  Mr.  Empson. 

19th  January,  1849. 

I  have  been  reading  Sidney's  Lectures,  which  I  told 
you  Mrs.  Smith  had  sent  me;  and  have  been  so  much 
struck  with  their  goodness,  cleverness,  vivacity,  courage, 
and  substantial  modesty,  that  I  have  loudly  retracted  my 
former  judgment,  that  they  would  do  him  no  credit,  and 
ought  not  to  be  published.  I  now  think  them  nearly  as 
good  as  any  thing  he  ever  wrote ;  and  far  better,  and  more 
likely  to  attract  notice,  than  any  of  his  sermons,  or  most 
of  his  reviews ;  and  have  consequently  recommended  an 
enlarged  impression  for  general  use  (she  had  only  printed 
100  for  private  circulation).  I  am  very  glad  to  make  this 
amende,  and  I  make  it  most  conscientiously.  I  had  read 


TO    MR.    J.    M.    MACLEOD.  353 

but  a  few  lectures  in  manuscript,  when  I  formed  the  un- 
favourable opinion  I  expressed  to  her  some  years  ago;  and 
suppose  I  must  have  fallen  on  bad  specimens,  though  I 
doubt  not  I  was  (too  much)  guided  by  a  preconceived  con- 
viction that  dear  Sidney  had  never  taken  the  trouble  to 
master  the  subject,  or  any  part  of  it,  and  merely  thrown 
out  to  his  shallow  Albemarle  Street  auditory  a  frothed-up 
recliauffS  of  Brown  and  Stewart,  from  imperfect  and  mis- 
taken recollections.  I  do  not  yet  believe  that  he  took  much 
pains,  or  fitted  himself  to  grapple  with  the  real  difficulties 
of  the  subject.  But  it  is  surprising  how  bravely  and 
acutely  he  has  clutched  at  the  substance  of  most  things; 
and  how  pleasantly  he  has  evaded,  or  extricated  himself 
from,  most  perplexities. 

206. —  To  John  Macpherson  Macleod,  Esq. 

(Late  of  the  Civil  Service,  Madras,  one  of  the  authors  of  the  Indian 

Penal  Code.) 

[Mr.  Macleod  had  sent  Lord  Jeffrey  a  copy  of  a  very  able  pamphlet  by 
him,  "On  some  popular  objections  to  the  present  Income  Tax,"  in 
which  he  endeavoured  to  show  that  the  objections  to  it,  because  of 
its  inequality,  as  applied  to  temporary  and  to  permanent  incomes,  \ 
were  groundless.] 

Edinburgh,  Thursday  Night, 

15th  February,  1849. 

My  dear  M'Leod — I  have  read  your  little  tractate  with 
very  great  pleasure  and  admiration.  It  is  a  pattern  of 
precise  and  vigorous  reasoning,  beautifully  lucid,  and  de- 
lightfully concise.  I  am  proud  of  it  for  your  sake,  and 
for  the  confirmation  it  affords  of  the  opinion  I  have  long 
held,  of  your  eminent  qualifications  for  this  kind  of  writ- 
ing, as  well  as  for  the  hope  it  suggests  that  the  success  it 
must  meet  with  may  tempt  you  to  employ  that  fine  and 
dexterous  hand  on  other  and  more  important  subjects, 
for  I  must  ..tell  you  that,  though  you  have  made  a  dazzling 
fence  of  dialectics,  and  gained  a  triumph  over  the  narrow 

30»  X 


854  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY 

battle  array  which  you  have  been  pleased  to  assign  to  your 
opponents,  I  am  not  satisfied  that  you  .have  broken  their 
substantive  strength,  or  done  more  than  oblige  them  to 
form  their  old  objections  anew,  on  a  ground  less  exposed. 
I  am  a  desperate  heretic,  in  short,  and  proclaim  myself, 
not  only  unconverted,  but  unshaken  in  all  the  substantial 
articles  of  that  creed,  on  one  formula  of  which  you  have 
made  so  brilliant  an  assault.  But  I  despair  of  being  able 
to  render  you  a  reason  for  my  belief,  till  I  have  more 
leisure  for  such  an  exposition,  than  I  can  venture  to  hope 
for,  for  some  time  to  come.  My  first  movement  was  merely 
to  thank  you  for  your  book,  and  to  tell  you  how  charmingly 
I  thought  it  written,  as  soon  as  I  had  done  reading  it. 
But  then,  as  I  was  conscious  of  a  resolute  dissent  from  all 
its  practical  conclusions,  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would 
not  be  fair  to  you  not  to  let  you  know  this,  nor  to  myself 
not  to  enter  into  the  grounds  of  that  disagreement;  and 
so  I  put  off  my  acknowledgments,  in  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  make  them  in  a  manner  more  worthy  of  the  occa- 
sion, and  of  the  confidence  there  should  always  be  between 
us.  But  I  have  been  so  long  detained  in  court,  and  so 
worried  with  other  cases  out  of  it  for  the  last  week,  that 
I  have  found  it  impossible  to  find  a  single  quiet  hour  in  all 
that  time  for  this  purpose;  and  seeing  no  prospect  of  any 
relief  for  weeks  yet  to  come,  I  have  sat  desperately  down,  at 
this  midnight  hour,  to  disburden  myself  of  this  impenitent 
confession,  and  to  try  to  tell  you,  in  two  sentences,  the 
general  nature  of  the  grounds  on -which  I  am  compelled  to 
refuse  any  adhesion  to  doctrines  which  I  foresee  will  now 
have  many  proselytes. 

The  root  of  my  objection  is — that  I  conceive  no  tax,  on 
what  you  understand  by  income,  can  be  otherwise  than 
unjust  and  unequal,  and  that  it  ought  in  all  cases  to  be  laid 
substantially  on  property.  I  think  it  a  very  reasonable 
proposition,  that  men  should  contribute  for  the  support  of 
the  government  which  protects  their  interests,  as  nearly  as 


TO   MK.  J.  M.  MACLEOD.  355 

possible  in  proportion  to  the  value  of  the  interests  protect- 
ed ;  and  that  in  this,  as  in  every  other  case,  they  should 
be  required  to  pay  only  as,  in  vulgar  phrase  and  fact,  they 
can  afford  to  pay.  Every  one  feels  and  acts  upon  this 
plain  maxim  in  ordinary  life.  The  man  who  has  a  fixed 
and  perpetual  income  spends  more  of  it  than  the  man  with 
one  that  is  temporary  or  precarious,  and  thus  pays  a  larger 
share  of  all  taxes  laid  on  consumption  or  expenditure.  In 
the  same  way  he  is  expected  to  pay,  and  does  pay,  more  in 
charity  and  voluntary  benefactions.  Why,  then,  should 
he  not  pay  his  direct  taxes  in  the  same  proportion?  and  be 
required  to  relieve  the  necessities  of  the  state,  as  he  feels 
it  his  duty  to  do  those  of  the  destitute  ?  and  subscribe  to 
the  exchequer  in  the  same  higher  column  which  he  occupies 
among  the  contributors  to  the  Infirmary  or  ragged  schools  ? 
This  is  the  view  which  common  sense  and  common  feeling 
impress,  I  believe,  on  all  men,  and  out  of  which  no  logi- 
cal refinements  can  ever  drive  them. 

But  if  we  must  come  to  quillets  and  quiddities,  and  em- 
barrass ourselves  with  logomachies  and  verbal  distinctions, 
I  say,  that  income  derived  from  realized  property  is  gene- 
•r ic ally  a  different  thing  from  income  derived  from  labour, 
or  any  other  source,  and  that  the  short  and  temporary  an- 
nuities, about  which  all  your  reasonings  are  conversant,  do 
not,  properly  speaking,  constitute  income  at  all,  but  are 
really  instalments  of  capital  formerly  invested,  and  now 
repaid  in  this  fashion,  and  should  no  more  be  taxed  as  in- 
come than  any  other  form  of  capital.  Take  this  illustra- 
tion : — I  sell  a  farm  for  £10,000,  which  is  all  paid  over  in 
one  year.  I  formerly  paid  income-tax  on  my  rent,  and 
now  pay  it  on  the  interest  only  of  the  price.  But  suppose 
the  bargain  is,  that  the  price  should  be  paid  in  jive  yearly 
instalments  of  X2000  each,  will  anybody  say  that  for  these 
five  years  I  am  to  pay  as  for  an  income  of  .£2000  a  year  ? 
But  is  this  substantially  different  from  the  case  of  a  man 
who  buys  an  annuity  of  X2000  a  year  for  five  years,  at  a 


856  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

price  of  £9000  or  £10,000.  Before  the  purchase,  he  only 
paid  income-tax  on  the  interest  of  the  price  so  invested,  and 
•why  should  he  pay  more  on  the  annual  instalments  by 
which,  in  substance  and  reality,  that  investment  is  merely 
replaced  to  him  ?  and  it  is  the  same  with  all  terminable 
annuities.  All  that  exceeds  the  interest  of  the  price  origi- 
nally paid  for  them,  or  rather  the  interest  of  their  present 
value,  is  truly  an  instalment  of  the  principal  repaid ;  and 
income-tax  should  only  be  paid  on  the  part  which  is  interest. 

You  observe  somewhere,  that  the  holder  of  a  short  an- 
nuity, if  he  does  not  like  to  pay  tax  on  its  annual  amount, 
may  sell  it,  and  purchase  a  perpetual  one  with  the  money, 
when  he  will  only  have  to  pay  on  a  smaller  income.  But, 
supposing  this  conversion  to  be  always  practicable,  can  any 
thing  present  so  strange  a  picture  of  gross  and  unjust  in- 
equality, as  that  a  man,  whose  actual  means,  wealth,  credit, 
and  power  of  spending,  remain  substantially  the  same, 
should  pay  four  times  as  much,  one  year  as  another,  as 
direct  tax  on  all  that  property,  merely  in  consequence  of 
a  change  in  the  mode  of  its  investment  ?  The  tax  now  is 
but  light,  and  people  grumble  and  submit  to  it.  But  if  it 
were  substituted  for  all  other  taxes,  and  consequently  raised 
from  3  per  cent,  to  20  or  25,  it  is  quite  plain  that  no  more 
capital  would  be  invested  in  terminable  annuities,  and  that 
the  holders  of  temporary  and  precarious  incomes  would  be 
driven  into  actual  rebellion — as  the  inequality,  though  not 
really  greater  than  now,  would  be  then  found  intolerable. 

When  I  say  that  the  tax  can  only  be  fairly  laid  on  pro- 
perty, I  do  not  mean  that  it  should  not  be  actually  so  levied 
on  any  thing  but  income,  but  only  that  it  should  be  so 
levied  on  an  income  representing  property,  and  proportion- 
ate to  it — on  the  actual  receipts — that  is,  where  these  are 
the  permanent  proceeds  of  property,  and,  in  all  other  cases, 
only  on  such  parts  of  the  annual  receipts  as  can  be  shown 
to  be  what  the  actual  present  value  of  what  is  vested  in  the 
party,  could  produce  annually  in  all  time  to  come.  I  do 


TO   MR.  J.  M.  MACLEOD.  357 

not  propose,  therefore,  to  tax  income  derived  from  realized 
property  higher  than  any  other  income,  but  only  to  dis- 
criminate those  parts  of  the  annual  receipts  of  other  per- 
sons, which  are  truly  the  income,  or  permanent  proceeds 
of  the  sum  of  their  possessions,  from  those  parts  which  are 
truly  varying  investments  of  the  principal,  and  to  charge 
the  tax  only  on  the  former. 

I  am  afraid  I  do  not  make  this  so  clear  as  you  would  do, 
if  you  were  of  my  way  of  thinking.  But  my  notion  is,  that 
the  only  definition  of  income,  which  can  ever  make  it  a  fair 
basis  of  taxation,  is,  that  it  is  the  annual  produce  of  some 
property  or  vested  value,  which  remains  entire  to  the 
owner,  after  yielding  such  produce.  Such  undoubtedly  is 
the  definition  of  the  incomt,  of  those  who  live  on  the  rents 
of  land,  or  the  interest  of  lent  money ;  and  if  they  pay 
only  a  certain  portion  of  this  income  to  the  state,  it  is  in- 
conceivable to  me  how  any  other  persons  should  be  required 
to  make  a  proportional  payment,  except  out  of  an  income 
of  the  same  description.  If  it  is  required  out  of  annual 
receipts  of  any  other  description,  it  is  not  paid  out  of  in- 
come, in  the  same  sense  as  that  paid  by  landlords  or  monied 
men.  But  I  take  their  case  as  the  standard ;  and  not  pro- 
posing at  all  to  enhance  the  assessment  on  them,  or  in  any 
way  to  tax  prospective  01  reversionary  interests,  I  mean 
merely  to  bring  the  incomes  :>f  other  persons  down  to  their 
standard — to  reduce  it  to  its  true  value,  according  to  that 
standard,  and  to  tax  it  equally  and  alike. 

The  proposition  then  is,  that  all  men  should  be  taxed, 
only  on  that  part  of  their  annual  receipts  which  it  can  be 
shown  that  the  present  value  of  all  they  are  vested  with 
might  yield  annually,  in  all  time  to  come.  The  owners  of 
land  and  of  lent  money  pay  only  on  what  is  thus  yielded, 
and  why  should  the  owners  of  any  other  source  of  produce 
pay  on  any  thing  else  ?  There  may  be  practical  and  in- 
surmountable difficulties  in  adjusting  the  actual  levy  of  the 
tax  in  certain  quarters,  but  no  difficulty  at  all  in  fixing  the 


358  LIFE   OP  LORD   JEFFREY. 

principle,  or  even  in  applying  it,  in  the  great  majority  of 
cases. 

In  that  of  the  holders  of  fixed  annuities  for  definite 
terms,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  at  all.  The  present 
value  of  the  annuity  may  be  calculated  with  absolute  cer- 
tainty, and  the  ordinary  interest  on  that  value,  brought  to 
a  capital,  would  show  the  taxable  amount  of  his  income  ; — 
all  beyond  being  as  much  realized  portions  of  the  principal, 
as  if  the  landlord,  in  addition  to  his  rents,  were  every  year  to 
receive  the  price  of  a  farm  which  he  had  directed  to  be  sold. 

The  case  of  life  annuities,  or  incomes,  as  they  are  called, 
may  be  a  little  more  difficult,  as  not  admitting  at  once  of 
a  precise  arithmetical  solution.  But  every  one  knows  that 
the  present  value  of  these  also,  is  every  day  calculated  in 
the  insurance  offices,  and  may  therefore  be  brought  to  a 
capital  as  easily  as  the  former. 

Professional  incomes  are  no  doubt  more  perplexing,  but 
are  so  plainly  within  the  principle,  that  I  have  not  the 
least  doubt  that  an  able  actuary,  with  all  the  data  before 
him,  could  make  a  very  reliable  estimate  of  the  probable 
present  value  of  all  the  future  receipts  of  any  professional 
person,  or  at  least  a  pretty  near  approximation  to  such  an 
estimate.  And  here  I  am  tempted  to  observe,  that  I  have 
not  been  at  all  moved  by  the  case  you  state  at  page  15, 
and  which  rather  seems  to  be  addressed  to  the  feelings  than 
to  the  judgment  of  your  readers,  since,  in  my  view  of  the 
matter,  there  would  be  no  higher  per-centage  charged  on 
the  proper  income  of  either  of  the  parties,  than  on  that  of 
the  other.  The  present  value  of  all  the  future  annual  re- 
ceipts of  the  man  now  actually  drawing  <£10,000  a-year, 
would  be  estimated,  say  at  ten  years'  purchase,  and  brought 
to  a  capital  of  .£100,000,  and  on  the  ordinary  interest  of 
that  or  some  £25,000  a-year,  he  would  have  to  pay  tax 
just  as  his  less  prosperous  brother  did  on  the  interest  of 
the  £4000  or  £5000  which  yielded  his  income  of  £200. 
If  you  did  not  mean  to  suborn  our  feelings  a  little  on  be- 
nalf  of  your  arguments,  why  make  the  retired  capitalists* 


TO   MR.  J.  M.  MACLEOD.  359 

the  least  healthy  and  wealthy  of  the  two  ?  It  is  quite  as 
common  a  case  to  find  a  jobbing  lawyer  retired  on  a  for- 
tune of  .£100,000,  and  a  sickly  scholar  plodding  on  at  the 
bar,  and  not  earning  .£200  a-year  by  his  precarious  prac- 
tice. But  would  it  then  seem  unjust  to  say  that  he  ought 
not  to  be  made  to  pay,  as  if  this  ,£200  was  secured  for  ever 
by  a  capital  of  £5000,  which  was  also  entirely  at  his  disposal  ? 
I  am  aware  that  there  may  be  difficulties  in  showing 
that  the  excess  over  the  interest  of  the  estimated  present 
value  of  a  future  professional  income  is  to  be  regarded  as 
instalment  of  capital,  and  so  distinguishable  from  income, 
as  in  the  case  of  fixed  incomes,  or  annuities  for  life  or 
terms  of  years ;  and  I  feel  that  I  have  not  now  time,  or 
strength,  to  enter  into  the  necessary  explanation.  But 
my  notion  generally  is,  that  this  excess,  too,  is  truly  but  a 
replacing  or  realizing  of  a  vested  capital,  and  so  not  fit  to 
be  taxed  as  income,  more  than  in  the  other  cases.  Part 
of  this  capital  is  the  money  actually  expended  (or  invested) 
by  or  for  the  party  himself  in  his  education,  and  in  the 
books,  instruments,  or  tools  necessary  for  carrying  on  his 
profession.  But  the  greater  part,  no  doubt,  (for  this  might 
soon  be  replaced,)  must  be  held  to  consist  in  the  talent, 
industry,  strength,  and  ambition  with  which  his  Maker 
(like  a  munificent  parent)  has  endowed  him,  and  invested, 
so  to  speak,  in  his  person,  to  be  reproduced  in  the  shape, 
not  merely  of  pecuniary  gain,  but  of  gratitude,  affection, 
and  fame.  It  is  only  with  the  worldly  profits  that  we  have 
now  to  do,  and  these  I  conceive  are  to  be  considered  as 
truly  the  return,  or  reproduction  in  a  material  form,  of 
that  intellectual  capital,  which  is  at  all  events  wholly  con- 
sumed and  expended  in  the  result,  and  does  not  remain, 
after  yielding  this  temporary  produce,  like  the  lands  or 
lent  money  of  the  landed  or  monied  man.  It  comes  under 
the  same  category,  therefore,  with  that  part  of  the  tem- 
porary annuitant's  receipts  which  is  over  the  ordinary  in- 
terest of  its  present  value,  and  plainly  resolves  itself  into 
a  partial  repayment  of  invested  capital. 


8GO  LIFE    OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

But  it  is  past  two  o'clock,  and  so  good  night,  and  God 
bless  you !  I  shall  be  ashamed,  I  daresay,  to  look  over 
this  to-morrow ! 

Friday  morning. — And  I  am  ashamed; — pretty  tho- 
roughly, both  of  the  length  and  the  crudity  ;  and  therefore, 
though  I  see  much  to  be  supplied,  I  do  not  venture  to  add 
any  thing.  Only,  you  will  understand,  that  I  apply  the 
views  last  stated  to  the  case  of  incomes  derived  from  trade 
and  manufactures,  holding  that  the  only  proper  or  taxable 
income,  in  these  cases,  is  that  constituted  by  the  interest 
on  the  stock  at  any  time  held  in  the  concern,  and  that  all 
surplus  receipts  are  to  be  considered  as  capital  in  a  state 
of  transition.  I  had  something  to  say  also  as  to  the  modi- 
fications the  argument  may  receive  from  the  income-tax 
being  taken  as  temporary  or  perpetual,  as  to  which  I  think 
you  have  fallen  into  some  fallacies,  and  as  to  the  income 
derived  from  mere  labour,  or  the  wages  of  unskilled  arti- 
zans,  though  I  think  you  will  easily  guess  how  I  would 
deal  with  these  questions. 

And  so  at  last  I  have  done,  and  feel  sure  that  however 
you  may  pity  my  judicial  blindness,  you  will  not  be  at  all 
angry  at  the  irreverent  petulance  with  which  you  know  (I 
hope)  that  I  claim  the  privilege  of  talking  inter  familiar es. 

I  fear  we  shall  never  thoroughly  understand  each  other, 
even  on  these  subjects,  till  we  have  a  long  midnight  con- 
versation at  Craigcrook,  or  St.  Kilda,*  where  we  can  hold 
our  Tusculan  disputation  face  to  face,  without  the  nausea 
of  reading  and  writing  these  dull  and  blotty  pages.  Re- 
member though,  that  I  ain  not,  by  many  degrees,  so  con- 
fident and  presumptuous  as  these  familiar  petulances  would 
make  me  appear  to  the  uninitiated ;  so  that,  if  you  will 
put  yourself  right,  and  me  as  wrong  as  you  please,  in  a 
future  edition,  you  will  find  me  as  meek  and  submissive  as 
a  lamb,  and  ready  to  make  any  palinode  (do  you  know 
that  word  of  the  Canonists  ?)  but  in  the  mean  time  I  hold 
you  at  defiance ! 

*  St.  Kilda  belongs  to  Mr.  Macleod. 


TO   MR.  EMPSON.  361 

And  so  God  bless  you  again  my  dear  M'Leod.  We  are 
all  pretty  well  here,  and  actually  meditating  a  run  up  to 
your  latitudes  about  the  beginning  of  April,  though  I 
cannot  help  having  misgivings  as  to  the  prudence  of  such 
a  movement  on  Charlotte's  part.  She  has,  I  thank  God, 
had  no  recurrence  of  her  malady  for  many  months ;  but 
has  been  living  so  very  careful  and  cautious  a  life  that  I 
shrink  from  the  prospect  of  any  such  disturbance  of  it, 
when  the  time  comes,  and  certainly  shall  run  no  risks. 

I  trust  Mrs.  M'Leod  has  got  over  her  influenza  long  ago. 
This  sweet  vernal  weather  should  scatter  the  seeds  of  all 
such  disorders. — Ever  and  ever  yours. 

207.— To  Mr.  JSmpson. 

(On  seeing  a  letter  about  Macaulay's  History. ) 

Craigcrook,  Tuesday,  20th  March,  1849. 

My  dear  E. — I  have  read  —  — 's  letter  with  some  sur- 
prise. I  really  do  not  know  what  it  is  that  he  would  exact 
from  a  historian — a  deduction  it  seems  to  be,  and  authentic 
announcement  of  all  the  great  "universal  and  eternal 
truths,"  which  it  is  supposed  that  a  due  consideration  of 
events  would  enable  him  to  establish  in  law,  religion,  poli- 
tical economy,  and  morals  !  A  modest  addition  this  to  the 
province  and  task  of  a  historian ;  and  in  regard  to  sci- 
ences, too,  in  which  what  are  held  to  be  established  truths 
by  one  set  of  authorities,  are  impugned  as  pestilent  here- 
sies by  another  as  weighty.  If  there  are  catholic  and 
eternal  truths,  now  so  proved  and  matured  as  to  be  ca- 
pable of  being  demonstrated  in  any  of  these  sciences,  it  is 
plain  at  least  that  this  can  only  be  done  by  reasoning  and 
controversy,  and  not  by  dogmatic  deduction  from  the  local 
history  of  a  very  brief  period ;  and  I  cannot  think  it  any 
part  of  the  historian's  duty  to  supply  this  demonstration. 
If  it  be,  at  least,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  a  duty 
which  has  been  hitherto  neglected.  No  historian  that  I 
know  of,  either  ancient  or  modern,  has  professed  or  at- 

VOL.  II — si 


LIFE   OF    LORD   JEFFREY. 

tempted  to  add  such  an  encyclopaedia  to  his  chronicle. 
Macaulay  Jtas  made  one  addition  to  the  task,  that  of  exhi- 
biting, not  only  the  great  acts  and  great  actions  of  the 
time,  but  the  great  body  of  the  nation  affected  by  these 
acts,  and  from  whose  actual  condition  they  truly  derive, 
not  merely  their  whole  importance,  but  their  true  moral 
character.  By  this  innovation,  he  has,  to  the  conviction, 
I  think,  of  all  men,  added  so  much,  not  only  to  the  inte- 
rest, but  to  the  utility  and  practical  lessening  of  history, 
that  I  feel  confident  it  will  be  universally  adopted,  and  no 
future  writer  have  a  chance  of  success  who  neglects  it. 

Uut  the  addition  which now  requires  and  demands, 

indeed,  under  pain  of  most  grave  censure,  would  be  quite 
as  much  an  innovation ;  and,  instead  of  adding  to  the  in- 
terest of  our  histories,  would  render  them  unreadable  for 
all  but  the  indefatigable  indagators  of  transcendental 
truths.  But  I  deny  utterly  the  two  propositions  upon 
the  assumption  of  which  all  this  anathema  is  rested — 1st. 
That  Macaulay  has  aimed  chiefly  at  interesting  and  enter- 
taining his  readers ;  and  2d.  That  he  has  (either  studi- 
ously or  indolently)  put  them  on  a  scanty  allowance  of 
instruction,  admonition,  or  suggestion.  As  to  the  last,  I 

will  maintain  boldly  to  the  face  of and  any  twelve 

select  jurymen  he  may  himself  name,  that  no  historian  of 
any  age  has  been  so  prodigal  of  original  and  profound  re- 
flective suggestion,  aye  and  weighty  and  authoritative 
decision  also,  on  innumerable  questions  of  great  difficulty 
and  general  interest ;  though  these  precious  contributions 
are  not  ostentatiously  ticketed  and  labelled  as  separate 
gifts  to  mankind,  but  woven  with  far  better  grace  and  ef- 
fect, into  the  net  tissue  of  the  story.  And  then,  as  to  his 
aiming  only  to  interest  and  amuse,  I  say,  first,  that,  though 
he  has  attained  that  end,  it  is  only  incidentally,  and  not 
by  aiming  at  it,  as  an  end,  at  all ;  and,  second,  that,  in 
good  truth,  it  is  chiefly  by  his  success  in  the  higher  object 
at  which  he  did  aim  that  he  has  really  delighted  and  inte- 
rested his  readers.  The  vivacity  and  colour  of  his  style 


TO -MR.  EMPSON.  363 

may  have  been  the  first  attraction  of  many  to  his  volumes ; 
but  I  feel  assured  that  it  is  the  impression  of  the  weight, 
and  novelty,  and  clearness  of  the  information  conveyed — 
the  doubts  dispelled — the  chaos  reduced  to  order — the 
mastery  over  facts  and  views  formerly  so  perplexing,  and 
now  so  pleasingly  imparted,  that  have  given  the  book  its 
great  and  universal  charm,  and  settled  it  in  the  affections 
of  all  its  worthy  admirers. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  the  general  historian  has  hitherto 
been  dispensed  from  settling  all  debateable  questions  in 
law,  public  policy,  religion,  &c.,  by  leaving  these  to  writers 
who  confine  themselves  each  to  one  of  these  great  subjects. 
Hallam  writes  a  constitutional  history — and  others,  histo- 
ries of  commerce — philosophy — religion — and  law;  and 
very  large  and  very  valuable  works  are  produced  under 
these  titles.  But  what  dimensions  would  a  work  assume 
that  undertook  to  embody  all  these,  or  even  the  substance 
of  them,  in  a  general  history.  Macaulay  has  been  re- 
proached with  expanding  the  history  of  four  years  into 
two  large  volumes ;  I  think  quite  unjustly.  But  how  many 
would  he  have  required  if  he  had  attempted  to  incorporate 
with  his  narrative  a  satisfactory  deduction  of  all  the  great 
truths  upon  which  it  had  any  bearing?  He  has  given  de- 
tails and  reasons  too — very  fully  in  so  far  as  they  were 
necessary  to  the  exposition  of  the  great  truths  which  he 
did  propose  to  establish.  For  I  take  it  that  it  was  with  a 
view  to  certain  great  truths  that  his  history  was  under- 
taken; and  these,  which  I  think  it  has  made  out  beyond 
all  future  contradiction,  are — 1st,  the  intolerable  and  per- 
sonally hateful  tyranny  of  the  Stuarts;  2d,  the  absolute 
necessity  of  at  least  as  radical  and  marked  a  revolution  as 
was  effected  in  1688;  and,  3d,  the  singular  felicity  with 
which  that  revolution  was  saved  from  the  stain  of  blood, 
and  all  crimes  of  violence,  by  the  peculiar  relation  in  which 
William  stood  to  the  dynasty,  and  the  still  more  peculiar 
character  and  European  position  of  that  great  prince. 
Had  he  not  been  in  the  line  of  succession  we  should  have 


364  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

had  an  attempt  at  a  new  commonwealth,  and  another  civil 
war;  and  had  he  not  been  partly  an  alien,  and  looking 
more  to  European  than  merely  English  interests,  the  vic- 
tory in  that  war  must  have  been  of  one  section  of  the 
people  over  another,  with  all  the  ranklings  and  aggravated 
antipathies,  which  the  mere  predominance  of  a  sort  of 
neutral  party  or  common  umpire  tended  to  suppress  and 
extinguish.  On  these  points,  I  think  Macaulay  has  made 
out  triumphantly — and  not  by  eloquent  and  lively  writing, 
but  by  patient  and  copious  accumulation  and  lucid  arrange- 
ment of  facts  and  details,  often  separately  insignificant, 
but  constituting  at  last  an  induction  which  leaves  no  shade 
of  doubt  on  the  conclusion.  This  book,  therefore,  has 
already,  in  the  course  of1  three  little  months,  scattered  to 
the  winds,  and  swept  filially  from  the  minds  of  all  think- 
ing Englishmen,  those  lingerings  of  Jacobite  prejudice, 
which  the  eloquence  and  perversions  of  Hume,  and  the 
popular  talents  of  Scott  and  other  writers  of  fiction,  had 
restored  to  our  literature,  and  but  too  much  familiarised  to 
our  feelings,  in  the  last  fifty  years.  This  is  a  great  work, 
and  a  great  triumph,  and  ought,  I  think,  so  to  be  hailed 
and  rejoiced  in.  All  convertible  men  must  now  be  dis- 
abused of  their  prejudices,  and  all  future  generations  grow 
up  in  a  light,  round  which  no  cloud  can  again  find  means 
to  gather.  As  to  the  objections  that  he  is  too  much  on  a 
footing  of  personal  intimacy  with  his  characters,  I  cannot 
say  I  see  much  weight  in  it.  If  he  speaks  of  them  with 
more  confidence  than  we  should  feel  entitled  to  do,  I  am 
willing  to  think  that  this  is  because  he  has  been  at  pains 
to  get  at  more  knowledge  of  them.  And  with  regard  to 
the  most  remarkable,  the  means  of  getting  very  minute 
knowledge  were  fortunately  very  abundant.  Halifax,  and 
Churchill,  and  Sunderland,  and  Burnet,  are  drawn  from 
their  own  writings  and  recorded  sayings;  and  I  have  no 
idea  that  the  accuracy  of  M.'s  portraiture  of  any  of  them 
will  ever  be  seriously  questioned. 


TO  MR.  MACLAGAN.  365 

208.— To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq. 

Craigcrook,  27th  July,  1849. 

My  ever  dear  Dickens — I  have  been  very  near  dead ; 
and  am  by  no  means  sure  that  I  shall  ever  recover  from 
the  malady  which  has  confined  me  mostly  to  bed  for  the 
last  five  weeks,  and  which  has  only,  within  the  last  three 
days,  allowed  me  to  leave  my  room  for  a  few  hours  in  the 
morning.  But  I  must  tell  you,  that,  living  or  dying,  I 
retain  for  you,  unabated  and  unimpaired,  the  same  cordial 
feelings  of  love,  gratitude,  and  admiration,  which  have 
been  part  of  my  nature,  and  no  small  part  of  my  pride  and 
happiness,  for  the  last  twenty  years.  I  could  not  let 
another  number  of  your  public  benefactions  appear,  without 
some  token  of  my  private  and  peculiar  thankfulness,  for 
the  large  share  of  gratification  I  receive  from  them  all ; 
and  therefore  I  rise  from  my  couch,  and  indite  these  few 
lines  (the  second  I  have  been  able  to  make  out  in  my  own 
hand  since  my  illness),  to  explain  why  I  have  not  written 
before,  and  how  little  I  am  changed  in  my  feelings  towards 
you,  by  sickness,  or  a  nearer  prospect  of  mortality.  I  am 
better,  however,  within  these  last  days  ;  and  hope  still  to 
see  your  bright  eye,  and  clasp  your  open  hand,  once  more 
at  least  before  the  hour  of  final  separation.  In  the  mean 
time,  you  will  be  glad,  though  I  hope  not  surprised,  to  hear 
that  I  have  no  acute  suffering,  no  disturbing  apprehensions 
or  low  spirits ;  but  possess  myself  in  a  fitting  and  indeed 
cheerful  tranquillity,  without  impatience,  or  any  unseemly 
anxiety  as  to  the  issue  I  am  appointed  to  abide. 

With  kindest  and  most  affectionate  remembrances  to 
your  true-hearted  and  affectionate  Kate,  and  all  your 
blooming  progeny,  ever  and  ever,  my  dear  Dickens,  affec- 
tionately yours. 

209. — To  Mr.  Alexander  Madagan,  Edinburgh, 
(Who  had  just  sent  him  a  volume  of  his  Poems.) 

24  Moray  Place,  Friday,  4th  January,  1850. 

Dear  Sir — I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  poems, 

31* 


366  LIFE   OF   LORD  JEFFREY. 

and  the  kind  letter  you  have  sent  me,  and  am  glad  to  find 
that  you  are  meditating  an  enlarged  edition. 

I  have  already  read  all  these  on  the  slips,  and  think  them, 
on  the  whole,  fully  equal  to  those  in  the  former  volume.  I 
am  most  pleased,  I  believe,  with  that  which  you  have  en- 
titled "  Sister's  Love  ;"  which  is  at  once  very  touching,  very 
graphic,  and  very  elegant.  Your  summer  sketches  have 
beautiful  passages  in  all  of  them,  and  a  pervading  joyousness 
and  kindliness  of  feeling,  as  well  as  a  vein  of  grateful  de- 
votion, which  must  recommend  them  to  all  good  minds. 
"  The  Scorched  Flowers"  I  thought  the  most  picturesque. 
Your  muse  seems  to  have  been  unusually  fertile  this  last 
summer.  It  will  always  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  hear  of 
your  well-being,  or  to  be  able  to  do  you  any  service. 

If  you  publish  by  subscription,  you  may  set  me  down 
for  five  or  six  copies  ;  and  do  not  scruple  to  apply  to  me 
for  any  farther  aid  you  may  think  I  can  lend  you.  Mean 
time,  believe  me,  with  all  good  wishes,  your  obliged  and 
faithful,  &c. 

210.— To  Charles  Dickens,  Esq. 

Edinburgh,  16th  January,  1850. 

Bless  you,  my  dear  Dickens,  and  happy  new  years  for 
centuries  to  you  and  yours  !  A  thousand  thanks  for  your 
kind  letter  of  December,  and  your  sweet,  soothing  Copper- 
field  of  the  new  year.  It  is  not  a  hinging  or  marking 
chapter  in  the  story  of  the  life,  but  it  is  full  of  good 
matter,  and  we  are  all  the  better  for  it.  The  scene  with 
Agnes  is  the  most  impressive,  though  there  is  much  pro- 
mise in  Traddles.  Uriah  is  too  disgusting  ;  and  I  confess 
I  should  have  been  contented  to  have  heard  no  more  of  the 
Micawbers.  But  there  is  no  saying  what  you  may  make 
of  them,  &c. 

It  cheers  and  delights  me,  too,  to  have  such  pleasing 
accounts  pf  the  well-being  and  promise  of  your  children ; 
and  it  is  a  new  motive  for  my  trying  to  live  a  little  longer, 


TO   ME.  CRAWFORD. 

that  I  may  hear  of  the  first  honours  attained  by  my  name- 
boy.  God  bless  him,  and  all  of  you ! 

We  are  all  tolerably  well  here,  I  thank  you ;  Mrs. 
Jeffrey,  I  am  happy  to  say,  has  been  really  quite  well  for 
many  months,  and,  in  fact,  by  much  the  most  robust  of 
the  two.  My  fairy  grandchild,  too,  is  bright  and  radiant 
through  all  the  glooms  of  winter  and  age,  and  fills  the 
house  with  sunshine  and  music.  I  am  old  and  vulnerable, 
but  still  able  for  my  work,  and  not  a  bit  morose  or  queru- 
lous ;  «  and  by  the  mass  the  heart  is  in  the  trim."  I  love 
all  that  is  loveable,  or  can  respond  to  love  as  intensely  as 
in  youth,  and  hope  to  die  before  that  capacity  forsakes  me. 

It  is  like  looking  forward  to  spring  to  think  of  seeing 
your  beaming  eye  again !  Come,  then,  to  see  us  when 
you  can,  and  bring  that  true-hearted  Kate  with  you, — but 
not  as  you  did  the  last  time,  to  frighten  us,  and  imperil 
her.  Let  that  job  be  well  over  first,  and  consider  whether 
it  had  not  better  be  the  last  ?  There  can  never  be  too 
many  Dickenses  in  the  world ;  but  these  overbearing*  ex- 
haust the  parent  tree,  and  those  who  cannot  hope  to  re- 
pose in  the  shade  of  the  saplings,  must  shrink  from  the 
risk  of  its  decay. 

I  daresay  you  do  right  to  send  one  boy  to  Eton ;  but 
what  is  most  surely  learned  there  is  the  habit  of  wasteful 
expense,  and,  in  ordinary  natures,  a  shame  and  contempt 
for  plebeian  parents.  But  I  have  faith  in  races,  and  feel 
that  your  blood  will  resist  such  attaints.  You  do  not 
think  it  impertinent  in  me  to  refer  to  them  ?  I  speak  to 
you  as  I  would  to  a  younger  brother.  And  so  God  bless 
you  again?  and  ever,  yours. 

211. —  To  Mr.  John  Crawford,  Alloa. 
(Who  had  sent  him  a  volume  of  his  Poems.) 

Edinburgh,  6th  January,  1850. 

Dear  Sir — I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  pretty 
little  volume  you  have  had  the  kindness  to  send  me,  and 


868  LIFE   OF   LORD   JEFFREY. 

beg  to  offer  you  my  sincere  thanks  for  the  honour  you 
have  done,  and  the  pleasure  you  have  afforded  me.  For 
though  it  only  came  to  my  hands  yesterday,  I  have  already 
read  every  word  it  contains,  and  have  really  been  much 
gratified  by  the  perusal.  It  has  always  been  a  source  of 
pride  and  satisfaction  to  me  to  find  so  many  of  my  coun- 
trymen, in  the  humbler  and  more  laborious  walks  of  life, 
addicted  to  pursuits  so  elevating  and  refined  as  those  with 
which  you  appear  to  have  dignified  and  solaced  your  hours 
of  leisure ;  and  particularly  gratifying  when  they  succeed 
in  these  lofty  endeavours,  as  I  think  you  may  be  said  to 
have  succeeded.  Not,  however,  that  I  think  you,  strictly 
speaking,  will  attain  either  fortune  or  fame  by  your  poetry, 
but  because  you  have  done  enough  to  show  that  you  have 
acquired  a  genuine  relish  for  those  ennobling  studies,  and 
a  capacity  for  enjoying  an  elegant  amusement,  which  will 
both  promote  your  moral  culture,  and  bring  you  into  con- 
tact with  minds  of  a  higher  order  than  might  otherwise 
have  claimed  affinity  with  you. 

There  is  much  graphic  beauty,  and  many  pleasing 
touches  of  kindly  feeling,  in  almost  all  your  pieces.  But 
I  am  most  pleased  with  those  that  embody  the  boundless 
tenderness  of  maternal  affection,  or  shadow  forth  the  in- 
effable loveliness  of  sinless  and  trusting  childhood.  In- 
deed I  have  always  been  charmed,  and  in  some  measure 
surprised  by  the  delicate  soft-heartedness  which  has  so 
generally  distinguished  the  recent  poetical  productions  of 
our  Scottish  tradesmen  and  artizans,  and  which  contrast 
so  favourably  with  the  license  in  which  many  of  their  rivals 
in  higher  stations  indulge. 

It  will  give  me  pleasure  to  hear  of  the  success  of  your 
modest  publication,  and  still  more  to  be  able  to  do  you 
any  service.  Meantime,  believe  me,  with  all  good  wishes, 
your  obliged  and  faithful. 

THE   END. 

^*-  -4'S     *      U7 .  JMi         *      v  J      v'S&DOUmjf    \  f    •    '  '     f  •'.•' 

Stereotyped  by  L.  Johnson  ft  Co.,  Philadelphia. 


Tpr 

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